


You're nobody...Until Somebody Crowns You.

by The_canon_is_a_lie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jon Snow-centric, King Jon Snow, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Second Chances, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 149,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_canon_is_a_lie/pseuds/The_canon_is_a_lie
Summary: Jon looks back and gets lost. Bran sends him back to find himself and be what he was born to be. Everyone(mostly) deserves a second chance. Jon has a plan to do just what he needs to do, but does any plan really go how it supposed to?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Talisa Maegyr/Robb Stark
Comments: 581
Kudos: 931





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fanfiction. I've been reading the ones on here for months. I'm pretty objective so I intend to treat each character fairly.

Jon Snow

Jon Snow looks at the Godswood tree beyond the broken Wall. This same Heart Tree is the one that he and Samwell Tarly took their vows at years ago. Back when he was younger, more carefree, if he ever was such a thing. He wonders to himself how he got here, back at the Wall, manned by criminals and the like for no real reason. He bitterly remembers what took place for him to get here at this point.

“My name isn’t even Jon Snow” he whispers to himself, although that is the only real name he

has ever known.

His real name strikes fear into the hearts of men. His real name brought ruin to the life that he thought he wanted. His name, even the woman he loved the most wanted to keep a secret. His sister used it to help bring down the one person he felt was worthy to rule Westeros.

With that name, he could have changed things. Real things, like the only father he had ever known, Ned Stark, beheaded at Kings Landing. Robb, along with his wife and nephew, killed at his uncle’s wedding along with Lady Stark. Arya escaping all alone, with no family and no Nymeria around to help her. Sansa sold like a broodmare to Lannisters and Boltons. Bran, crippled and escaping beyond the wall. Rickon, betrayed and killed along with Osha and Shaggydog, by the same Northerners that cursed his bastard status all his life, until it was time to save their sorry asses. Daenerys, all alone across the narrow sea, brought to ruin by misery, loneliness, and her last living family. He brings himself to tears thinking of how he failed her, after she saved his life multiple times. Rhaegal, his dragon that showed him how to fly and be a real dragon.

Jon’s ambition basically beaten out of him, being a bastard of a high lord with no inheritance. He could never be Lord of Winterfell, not that he ever wanted to ruin his siblings birthrights, as Lady Catelyn would have no doubt thought. He stands staring at the Heart Tree while he hears Ghost let out a small whine beside him when he mentioned Rhaegal. The life he lived cost him when it mattered the most. That thought sent a shiver down his spine.

“I know boy, he was your brother.” He says to Ghost, with his voice breaking and tears streaming down his face.

“I should have known that it meant something, when Maester Aemon said-“

“A Targaryen all alone in the world is a terrible thing.” The face of the Heart Tree says to Jon.

His eyes widen and he looks stunned. “Hello, cousin…brother.” the tree says to him.

“Bran.” he says back.

“I guess you can call me that, you know all about false names don’t you?” the Heart Tree says.

His eyes narrow. “I thought I wasn’t your brother, isn’t that what you told Sam?” The tree stays silent.

“Answer me, Your Grace!” Jon says mockingly.

“That is what I said, yes, but I was wrong.” The tree finally answers.

“Why are you talking to me, what do you want?” he says to the tree.

“I have found a way for you to go back and fix some things, although it may be…difficult.” Bran says through the tree.

“More difficult than being the last of your kind, and being hated by everyone?” Jon says.

“The Wildlings, Tyrion, Ser Davos, Samwell Tarly, Ser Brienne, Ser Podrick, Sans-“ 

“I get it Bran,” Jon cuts him off. “Not exactly helping here, you are mentioning people who got what they wanted, some of whom I might want to kill right now…brother.” They sit in silence for a little while.

“What do you you want?” the Heart Tree slowly says.

“Nobody ever gave a fuck about me before, why are you asking me this?” Jon says bitterly.

“Because Bran does, and he is in here somewhere.” says the Heart Tree. Jon stands there looking at the tree, dumbfounded and angry.

Slowly the tree’s mouth begins to move, “Touch my face and you will see what you must, what you don’t want to see, and what you need to see.”

Jon removes his glove slowly. “How does this work?” as he places his hand on the face of the Godswood Tree.

“I don’t really know, what I can tell you is that your blood is special and that you will be able to make some changes, but I only want to ask you one thing in return.”

“What is it that the three-eyed raven wants?” Jon says to Bran.

“…Save…Summer…”

Bran Stark

“Your Grace!” Tyrion says to a barely conscious Bran.

“What is it, my Lord Hand?” Bran says.

“You have been out of it for a three hours, and what’s this about Summer?” Tyrion asks curiously.

“Don’t say that name to me!” The Three Eyed Raven replies.

Tyrion and Ser Brienne look perplexed, this is the first time Bran has shown any emotion in the past few years.

“Something weird is about to happen.” Bran says with no emotion.

The Godswood Tree in kings landing begins to glow and a leaf falls from it, slowly falling to the ground.

Bran loses consciousness after he whispers, “Do what you must, wake up the Last Dragon.”

Tyrion and Brienne glance at each other after the King faints.

“I don’t know if the Last Dragon waking is a good thing…” Tyrion says with concern.

“I guess we’ll find out won’t we?” Brienne says after contemplating what she just heard.

Jon Snow

The Heart Tree starts glowing and feels warm to his hand. It pokes his finger with a small thorn. The face on the Godswood begins to groan and slowly contort from an impassive face to a frown. A red single tear flows out of the eye on the face of the tree.

Jon’s world is turned upside down and he loses consciousness.

He wakes to green fields and a godswood in the distance, as his blurry vision returns he spots two, no three figures a short distance away from the Heart Tree.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.” The two say in unison.

It is then that he notices the Dragon Sigil on the silver-headed man’s chest. He thinks to himself how much the woman reminds him of Arya. He watches them bind their arms together and kiss. He is shocked into standing still, because he knows that since Bran told him it was something he need to see, that this is Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the Lady Lyanna Stark. His…Parents…

He stares at his feet for a while before closing his eyes.

His eyes open and he finally looks up.

They are staring at him.

“What’s a man of the Night’s Watch doing in Dorne at a wedding?” Lady Lyanna says smoothly.

He says nothing, he remembers he’s Lord Commander and that he’s dressed in all black. Not exactly wedding attire. His heart begins racing and breathing becomes difficult. Words just will not come out at this point.

“You look like my Rhaegar, but you remind me of-“ Lyanna stops in her tracks. Rhaegar is just staring at him.

“Your name?” they ask him.

“You would know better than I would, I do believe I am your son” Jon finally gets out with a broken voice.

They rush towards him, looking him up and down.

“How did you keep Robert from killing you?” Rhaegar asks solemnly.

“Ned Stark…saved…me…” He utters through gritted teeth.

Rhaegar and Lyanna give each other a glance, they don’t know what to say to that. Rhaegar looks like something is on his mind.

“Ser Arthur?” Rhaegar asks.

“Dead” Jon says.

“Ned Stark killed Ser Arthur Dayne?” Lyanna quizzes.

“That’s the story I was told as a child, I’m sure there’s more to the story, since that was the day I was born” Jon says.

“How would you know that?” They ask simultaneously.

“That’s…” Jon tries to say but he’s unsure of how to proceed at this point. How do you tell your parents about their deaths? Lyanna tries to touch him to comfort him, she can tell that he’s not happy with the situation but he pulls away. He’s shamed because he doesn’t believe he deserves to be happy or in the company of someone who loves him.

“Everyone I love tends to die.” He says to Lyanna. Rhaegar and Lyanna look at each other in the eyes before turning back to him.

“Same.” They blurt out together.

“We are alive now, my boy, tell me why you are so broken…” Rhaegar says with no judgement.

Jon goes on to explain being raised Jon Snow the Bastard of Winterfell. Robert’s Rebellion and the death of the Mad King. Tells them how Ned became Robert’s Hand which disgusts the three of them. How he takes the black to make a name for himself since he has no inheritance. About the Wildlings and how they are not any different from the rest of us. How the Stark-Lannister war broke his family. The War of the Five Kings ravaged Westeros. All the while the White Walkers were adding meat to their army. Becoming King in the North right after Rickon was killed by the Boltons. About Daenerys and her three dragons, raising armies in Essos and then finally making it to Dragonstone. They made an alliance before they knew they were related and destroyed the army of the dead with the help of the Northerners. How they fell in love, until the throne and their relation came in between them, and then how he killed her after she burned Kings Landing with no remorse. How he had to take the black for a second time for his crimes.

“So do you go by Jon Snow, then?” Rhaegar asks.

“Aye.” Jon replies.

“That’s your problem, you don’t know who you are, being a leader is mostly about knowing who you are, and using that to your advantage.” Rhaegar says to him.

“We named you Jaehaerys Targaryen, that’s the name of fucking king, do you hear me?” Lyanna says to him, while she wraps her arms around him with a look that reminds him of Arya so much that it makes his heart ache.

Jon nods in response.

“Avenge Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys, if you do nothing else, my son.” Rhaegar says with tears in his eyes. He places his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“She knew?” Jon asks, confused.

“Of course she knew, you think we would be in Dorne if she didn’t know?” Lyanna shrugged.

“One last thing…if you find Daenerys, bring her to me.” Rhaegar says. “I have something that you both need to know, tell both her and Ser Alliser Thorne that the dragon has three heads.” Rhaegar says.

The three of them stand there hugging and crying for a long time. They embraced knowing that they had never met each other before, and that this will probably be the last time that they see each other.

“Do you know what had to happen for you to be born?” Lyanna asks Jon.

Jon just looks at her stunned.

“I had to lose my family, my husband, and my life.” She says while looking at her feet. She then looks him dead in the eye before saying “I’d do it all again, for you Jaehaerys, you must never forget that.”

“If you are the King I think you are, you’ll never have to ask anyone to bend the knee to you, they will do it of their own accord.” Rhaegar says to him.

“See it done, I only ask for three things.” Rhaegar says to Jon seriously. Rhaegar whispers to Jon and his eyes widen with understanding before nodding.

“Now go, and figure out who you are.” Lyanna says to him.

Jon goes and touches the Godswood tree behind him and disappears before his parents eyes.

The world spins and fades, gets blurry and then he sees blinding light and then lots of snow.

“Jon, are you okay?” He hears a voice.

It’s Samwell Tarly.

“I’m…fine…” he says back.

“You are supposed to be saying your vows” Samwell says to him.

“I need to speak to the Lord Commander.” Jon says. Sam just looks at Jon with a perplexed look, but he trusts him and doesn’

“Sam, place your hand on the Godswood tree.” Jon tells Sam.

“But-“ Sam tries to get out.

“Just do it.” Jon says.

Sam places his hand on the Heart Tree and it pricks his finger, the face doesn’t move and the tree doesn’t glow. Finally Sam faints and the face on the Heart Tree slightly moves, the mouth slightly twitches.

“Sam! Sam!” Jon says. He slaps him on the face to wake him up.

“Jon, how did this happen?” Sam says as he wakes up and slowly begins to rise.

“Bran.” they say together.

“Let’s go. We have to get the Lord Commander.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happenings at the Wall. Plans originated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some questions about Sam and why he's in my story. I hope this answers those questions. Also, I just coughed up an idea out of my semi-sane mind so I hope it's not too bad for those that may take it a bit seriously. Anyways, enjoy(if possible). Jon in this story is a bit conflicted, but not the paralytic-induced conflicted version of s8(probably my last mention of it, if i can help it) Point being that his method of punishment is more along the lines of giving you an opportunity to prove yourself rather than outright killing them. For the most part, that is.

Jeor Mormont

“What is it Snow?” Jeor asks impatiently.

“I need to tell you some things…but you won’t really believe me” Jon says to him.

“Things like what? Out with it, boy!” the Lord Commander asks Jon.

“What does Craster do with his baby boys?” Jon says with eyes fixed on the Lord Commander, making him feel very uneasy.

“Do you think you know something, boy, you’ve been listening to gossip?” the Lord Commander asks with a bead of sweat dropping from his face.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Lord Commander, I’m going to take the dead man we just recovered to Mance Rayder. He’s going to capture some more wights and I am going to present them to the rest of Westeros as proof of the White Walkers. Then you are going to relieve me and whoever chooses to go with me of our duties as we rally the rest of Westeros to fight them, otherwise we may be wiped out.”

“Why should I listen to you? Also, why do you think you can make a difference? No offense, but you’re a bastard. High Lords will look down on you and no one will trust you to lead them.” He says as Jon narrows his eyes.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this Lord Commander” Jon says. He immediately jumps up and grabs Jeor by his collar and pins him against the wall. Ghost starts growling.

“I’ll tell each one of the brothers that you know about the White Walkers and said nothing, dooming us all. I’ll tell your niece Lyanna, with more balls than you do that you failed us all. I had to see her die after killing a giant. The army of the dead ravaged Winterfell and killed the last of the Mormonts. Your son, Ser Jorah even died saving the realms of men. YOUR SON! The exiled bear knight, who sold slaves and ended up swearing his sword to Daenerys Targaryen, died in Winterfell to the Army of the Dead!” Jon says to Lord Commander Mormont.

Ser Allister and Maester Aemon look confused at the mention of Daenerys. Grenn and Pyp are standing before Ser Allister and keep him from Jon. Sam is behind Maester Aemon, looking on with interest.

Jeor looks down, defeated.

“Alright Snow, you think you can do better, lets hear your plan.” Mormont says.

“I just told you what you needed to know, my Lord” Jon says mockingly.

“Grenn, Pyp, escort Ser Allister to the Godswood so that he can touch it, and remember his failures.” Jon says with determination.

Ser Allister observes the situation with a dumbfounded look on his face. Grenn and Pyp grab him and pull him up out of his stupor, and Jon walks toward Ser Allister and whispers in his ear “The dragon has three heads” Ser Allister’s eyes widen as he takes in this information. He goes with Grenn and Pyp with no coercion.

After they exited Jon says calmly to Jeor “I am no bastard. Jon Snow is not my real name either. I’m not going to tell you my real name. But I will avenge my brother and until I do, I will adopt a new name, one that will strike fear into the hearts of those who would see me and mine burn or lead them to the slaughter, a name known throughout the Seven Kingdoms.”

“What name would that be?” Says Maester Aemon.

“Aegon Targaryen” Jon says with a smile.

Maester Aemon looks perplexed, and then contemplative as a single tear runs down his cheek.

Aemon Targaryen

“Jon Snow, what are you saying, and why would you use that name?” He says.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I need your help, Maester” Jon says softly.

“Help with what, what can an old man at the end of his rope do for a young man with his whole life before him?” Aemon says with an odd look on his face.

“You can tell when a man is lying, yes?” Jon says quizzingly.

“I suppose, unless you are a Faceless man, in which case it’s a little harder to tell without my eyes.” Aemon retorts.

“Did you think I was lying with what you just heard, Maester?” Jon says.

“I don’t think so, but i’m a bit confused as to how you could be my blood.” Aemon says sadly.

“Sam told me this, not under the best circumstances, but he was the only one with the courage to tell me. Ned Stark knew, and he didn’t tell me.” He glances over at Sam sitting in the corner, at least having the decency to look ashamed.

“Lady Lyanna Stark died giving birth to me. I’m the son of Rhaegar, Maester. My real name is Jaehaerys, however I was asked to take up the name Aegon until my dead brother is avenged. But first I need your help. I can’t do what I need to do from the Wall, and I need to find Blackfyre.” Jon said with a pause.

“Why do you think I know where it is?” Aemon says.

“Because Rhaegar, in his last message to you, disclosed it’s location.” Jon says.

Aemon stops and looks up at him shocked.

“How would you know this?” he asked quizzingly.

“Because he told me himself” Jon says with a slight grin. Aemon just looks off into the distance, trying to figure out how that is possible. He had thought that he would die with this secret, unless somehow Daenerys made her way to him before he died.

“Jon, why am I here?” Sam says out of the corner, Jon looks at him for a second before finally speaking.

“Castle Black needs a new Maester, and you need to let Bran through when he comes to the Wall. Also, you need to find the Dragonglass at The Fist of the First Men and deliver it to Mance and Tormund as a show of good faith. You found it before, right?” Jon says with a dark look.

Sam finally understands why he has been kept here and nods.

“See that you don’t betray those that are closest to you” Jon says to Sam before turning to the Maester.

“Maester, you are coming with me” Jon says with a smile.

“Why do you want an old blind man to come with you, what can I do?” Aemon says.

“We are family, we need to look out for each other” Jon says in return.

They iron out a few details of Rhaegar’s last message together before they are interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in” Maester Aemon speaks up.

Its Ser Allister, with Grenn and Pyp.

“You can go now, Grenn and Pyp, we will speak later” Jon says to them. They start walking away before looking back, confused about Ser Allister’s new state of mind.

“I always wondered how you were able to inspire people like that, maybe it’s because you actually are a good leader” Ser Allister says to Jon, breathing heavily.

“Is he really the son of Rhaegar, Maester Aemon?” Ser Allister asks.

“It appears so my boy, his story lines up with everything Rhaegar told me” Maester Aemon states.

“Rhaegar’s last words to me were what you said, “The Dragon has three heads” what was that about?” quizzes Ser Allister.

“I have a few theories myself, but it seems I will have to find that answer, possibly with a little help.” Jon says thoughtfully.

Ser Allister unsheathes his sword and lays it at the feet of Jon, getting down on one knee.

“I will go wherever you follow, you are my King and I failed you and Rhaegar. I won’t make that mistake again” Ser Allister states. Jon just stares at him for a bit, then gestures for him to rise.

“We have work to do, I don’t want your paltry oaths, words are wind. You will have a chance to prove me your loyalty in due time, Ser” Jon states while looking directly into his eyes.

“Where to my boy.” Aemon states.

“Dragonstone” says Jon.

Jon Snow

“What’s at Dragonstone, Your Grace?” Ser Allister Questions. He still wonders whether Jon will kill him or not, he looks at him looking for any hints of anger, trying to tell whether or not his life is forfeit. He mocked Jon the entire time he was at the wall, yet here he was, serving him. Unsure of his plans for the rest of Westeros and how he will conquer he finally comes up with an idea.

“Don’t call me that, not until I wear a crown, Ser” Jon retorts.

“As you wish, I think it’s a great idea, using the name Aegon to bring Fire and Blood to your enemies” Ser Allister states.

“It is only because my father asked me to, but I can use it to cause problems for a few enemies, so I will.” Jon states. He is looking at a map of Westeros, no markers are placed but he is staring at the Southern region of the map.

“What happened when you fought the White Walkers and the army of the dead?” Ser Allister broke his concentration. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer but he knew at some point that Jon Snow and his honor would bring himself to fight the undead army. He knew he could fight, but the look on his face did not look reassuring.

“Half of all the armies were wiped out, the dragon I rode was wounded, and the Northerners still hated Daenerys. Stupid lot they are sometimes.” Jon replied.

“Northerners have always been stubborn and stupid, It’s no surprise that they would hate her” Ser Allister says.

“Like you hate the Wildlings? Turns out that they were the most loyal men you’d ever get” Jon returns the insult. Ser Allister absorbs what Jon says about loyalty and looks at his feet.

“Until your Northern honor turned you against her, tell me, what was she like?” Ser Allister questioned.

“She was…what really brought me back. The knives from my own men ended my life, and the Red Woman brought me back, but she was the what brought be back to life. She never once called me a bastard, she saved me at the expense of one of the dragons. She even told me she loved me, I kept thinking, who would love a bastard?” Jon says solemnly.

“You rode a dragon and you still couldn’t understand why?” Ser Allister asks grimly.

“Well I was a bit thick headed, but I think that you’re only stupid if you don’t learn from your mistakes, eh?” Jon retorts.

“Fair enough, but what will you do with the North when you become king” asks Ser Allister.

“Robb, will be the one to answer that. I want to see if he thinks the North can sustain itself after he brings them to war with the Lannisters” Jon says reluctantly. He’s not sure if he can completely trust Ser Allister, but he knows Ser Allister is not a liar. Ghost is with him as well and would come to his defense if it came down to it.

“Starks, they sure can be dumb, for all the talk about “Winter is Coming” He says sarcastically.

“Mind your tongue Ser” Jon says with narrowed eyes. “I have problems with some of them but I love Robb, he is my brother.”

Sir Allister nods in response.

Jon realizes that this is the day that the Lord Commander tells him about Ned’s imprisonment in Kings Landing. The same time that Robb raises his banners, it’s all about to go to seven hells if he doesn’t do something. He rubs his chin trying to figure out how to save Robb, but he knows that Ned is on borrowed time. “I need to go to the Godswood” he whispers.

Jon approaches the tree slowly, he has a wight locked up so now he has proof of the threat, he needs a few more to enact his plans, but that has to wait. If only he had a dragon to traverse the area of Westeros he thinks bitterly, but he ruined that for himself with his mistakes.

He speaks to the Godswood before him “Can I speak to Lord Stark before he dies?”

The tree’s face slowly moves “Yes…but you don’t have much time…”

He quickly puts his hand on the face of the Heart Tree and goes blank.

Ned Stark

Delirious from fatigue and dehydration. Ned looks up and sees that last thing he would have ever thought possible. “Jon?”

“Aye” Jon says from a distance, he doesn’t come any closer.

“What are you doing here?” Ned asks hoarsely.

“I wanted to chat with you before your honor kills you” Jon says.

Ned just stares at him.

“You know, you said to me, the next time we see each other, we’ll talk about your mother. I’m pretty sure this is the last time we’ll see each other.” Jon states.

Ned looks down in defeat, closing his eyes. He opens them again and looks up at Jon again. “She…was…my only sister…””I-“

“Was that so hard, my Lord?” Jon says.

Ned looks at him suspiciously, at this point he noticed that Jon doesn’t look the least bit surprised and it concerns him. But he says nothing.

“You could have told me that I could be something, that would really have helped. Your…Our family will be destroyed by secrets and lies. I hope you know that you are a great father, but things just don’t always work out the way you want them to. But you finally told me the truth, so I will tell you some things. Hells, you could have just picked me over Stannis, you actually thought that Stannis Baratheon was worthy?” He calms down and goes on to explain what happens to each of his children. About how they are betrayed and mistreated by the Northerners, the Freys, the Lannisters, then in some cases each other. They sit there in silence, Ned feels like he has failed, when all he had to do was get help Jon on the throne and his family would have been protected better. He weeps at this thought.

“Lord Stark, when you get on the Sept of Baelor and confess your sins, tell your daughters that they must never betray one another, or their family, they will both be in attendance. Can you do that?” Jon says to Ned. Ned takes in what he just said and then nods at him.

“Jon…”

“Yes, Lord Stark”

“You are more a King than anyone I have ever known.”

“Thank you Lord Stark, that is seven and ten years late, but what’s more revealing than the prospect of imminent death right?”

“One thing I’d like from you my boy”

“What is it Lord Stark?”

“If you get your dragon and you receive your crown…burn Kings landing to the fucking ground”

“WHAT!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that happened. I wanted Jon to be full on assaulted with his hypocrisy. Sometimes characters are more like a moral compass of sorts. (I think GRRM's moral compass was Sam, BTW) but it reminds me of a song where the artist(Outkast) says "All of my heroes did dope." I think you have to be reminded that no one is perfect sometimes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maester Aemon at Dragonstone. Jon gets an epiphany. Uneasy alliance is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have words in my head. They leaked out onto this page. Enjoy!

Jon Snow

“You alright back there, Maester Aemon” Jon says, it’s been a long ride.

“Fine, my boy, fine” Aemon says. “This smell…it’s been years I have been back here” He looks like a little boy again, smiling wide.

“You haven’t said much since we rode here, I take it you had an unpleasant conversation?” Aemon says.

“Aye, you have the right of it.” Jon says back, he is still reeling from the conversation with Lord Stark.

Ned Stark has been killed.

…Back in Kings Landing’s Dungeons…

“What the hells do you mean, burn Kings Landing to the ground?” Jon snaps back.

“Exactly what I said. This city is just a big pit, it needs to go.” Ned says back.

“The people?” Jon says.

“Get as many of them out as you can” Ned replies.

“I never would expect this from you, Lord Stark…this is…less than honorable…” Jon says.

“What did my honor get me, hmm? Locked up by Lions, my family killed or tortured, no…that’s why I tried to save Daenerys Targaryen. I had hoped she would strike fear into the Seven Kingdoms, bringing justice to men like Tywin Lannister.” Jon narrows his eyes at the mention of Tywin.

“I killed her for that…” Jon whispers. Ned looks up confused, not sure what he means.

“Daenerys, she killed everyone in Kings Landing atop her black dragon” Jon laments.

“I see, did she rain fire as soon as she came to Westeros?” Ned asks.

“No” Jon states.

“What happened then?” Ned questions.

“Cersei was queen…She betrayed us all and then beheaded her best friend for her to see atop Kings Landing, it was then that she rained fire upon them” Jon says in return.

“So…you didn’t want the kind of queen that would kill for her family? Is that it?” Ned says.

“I…didn’t…” Jon is unable to answer the question.

“You didn’t know what you wanted…” Ned says.

“I thought that she was going to do the same to Sansa and Arya.” Jon says, Ned perks up at hearing his daughters names.

“Did she ever threaten them?” Ned asks with narrow eyes.

“No, not even once.” Jon replies solemnly.

“Then what exactly is the problem?” Ned says.

“The Lannister army had surrendered…” Jon replies.

“The same Lannister army that killed your brother and sister…before doing what they did to Elia…?” Ned replies.

“Yes…” Jon says sadly. He starts to break down with realization, at that point he didn’t think of himself as a brother to Aegon and Rhaenys. He never met them, never looked upon their faces, never saw them smile, but yet he still loved them. He weeps, realizing he killed the person that avenged his real brother and sister, not people that used him for his name, or for his lack of one when he was a bastard.

“You know…that the Targaryen army had surrendered, yes? That is one reason why I left Kings Landing, I did not believe that Robert’s Rebellion was justified at that point, and that was before I found Lyanna. I don’t wish to see innocents slaughtered, but when you put your faith in worthless men, you get worthless fruit in return. After Kings Landing is destroyed, many will find their own way and stop trusting in monarchs to guide their every step. I’m sorry that I failed you my boy. You’ve always been more than just a bastard. I just thought you might want peace.” Ned says with a heavy heart.

“Peace” Jon scoffs. “I’ve killed Nights Watchmen, Wildlings, Dead Men, White Walkers, Lannister Men, Sellswords, and Northmen. Peace? I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

They hear chains in moving in the distance…It’s time for them to come and take Ned.

“Farewell, Lord Stark. I have hated you at certain times. But I will always love you. You protected me, and taught me honor and respect.”

They hug for a short time, and then separate. Jon leaves out of the dungeons.

…Back at Dragonstone…

“Your plan?” Ser Allister states.

“Maester Aemon will go in the castle and state that he just wants to live out his last days at Dragonstone, he’ll learn the location of Blackfyre and send me a raven when it is time. Stannis is not Robert, he won’t kill a blind old man, even a Targaryen one. Stannis is going to attack Kings Landing at some point, but he will lose. Ser Davos will make his choice, he’ll probably come to my side. I need someone that will operate ships.” Jon states.

“Where will me and you go then?” Ser Allister asks.

“Dorne” Jon states with a grin.

Jon, Ser Allister, and Ghost make their way to Dorne.

Ser Davos Seaworth

“You stand in the presence of the One True King of Westeros, Stannis Baratheon.” Ser Davos states. They are in the throne room of Dragonstone. Stannis sits on the throne flanked by Ser Davos on his left and Lady Melisandre on his right. She looks on curiously.

“Those titles mean nothing to me Ser, i’m just an old man that is ready to die, my serving days are over” Maester Aemon says gently.

“Why are you here old man?” Stannis says directly.

“Ah, the Baratheons, straight to the point then?” Aemon says sarcastically. “I’m here to live out my last days in this dark and bleak castle, until my body fails, me Your Grace.” he says mockingly.

Ser Davos just stares at him before glancing over at Stannis and Melisandre. She moves closer to Stannis and starts whispering in his ear. She seems preturbed, as if something is wrong, which makes him all the more excited and curious.

“I would remind you lot, that the dragon does not burn.” Aemon states seriously. Melisandre stops whispering in Stannis’ ear at that point. She feels like Maester Aemon is looking into her soul. “Is this what people feel when they see me” she asks herself.

“How did you get here?” Melisandre says questioningly.

“I flew” Aemon states with a bright smile. He looks like he really did fly, Ser Davos would believe him if that were possible.

“That’s clearly not possible” she returns.

“Oh? It’s more feasible that the woman in Red, older than she looks, can see what may happen in the flame, but not for the dragon to fly?” Aemon states.

“What do you mean “may” happen? The Lord of Light-“ She is cut off by the Maester.

“Indeed my lady, you see what happens when you behead a man. Everyone knows what happens when you behead someone. But you have yet to swing that sword…” he states cryptically.

“Was it you I saw at the Wall in my vision?” She whispers. Stannis and Ser Davos don’t hear her and continue looking dumbfounded.

“I don’t venture to guess what you saw, my lady, but no doubt, as blind as I am, my eyes are better than yours. I am still a young man, after all.” Maester Aemon stands blankly.

Lady Melisandre blanches at this. This is the second reference the Maester has made to her age. Does he know? She is disturbed by this and leaves the throne room for her chambers, surprising both Davos and Stannis. They have never seen her lose her wit, and for Stannis this is particularly concerning, is this old man here for some other reason. He files these thoughts away for later. “Ser Davos, see him to one of the empty chambers.” Stannis orders.

“I have a room in mind, and first if you would kind Sir, would you accompany me to the Godswood?” Ser Davos nods and wheels the Maester to the Godswood.  
Ser Allister and Jon are riding towards Dorne. Ghost is running beside them. They see the Reach off in the distance, with lush green fields and harvests to make it through several winters. Suddenly Jon is struck with an idea. He now has another means to accomplish his goals. He almost has all the pieces set for his conquest of Westeros. He needs to start with someone he will suspect will hate him at first, Prince Doran Martell and his Brother Oberyn, the Red Viper. Hopefully they don’t kill him once he explains his plans.

Jon Snow

They make it to the Water Gardens of Dorne. It’s beautiful, but hot. He still looks like a brother of the Night’s Watch, but he is not deterred by his appearance. “The first step in being a good king, is making a friend out of those that hate you” Rhaegar told him.

Prince Doran is sitting before him, with Oberyn Martell on his right , and Areo Hotah to his left. The Lady Ellaria Sand is standing next to Oberyn with three more beautiful girls to her left. The three women beside her are just look at him curiously. He knows he’s out of his element here in Dorne but he can find no challenge greater than this he thinks to himself.

“You are..A Stark maybe…A Night’s Watchman? Why are you in Dorne?” Doran says.

“I came to ask you for an alliance.” Jon says meekly.

“An alliance with the Starks…you take me for a fool? You would make me an enemy of the crown, for what, exactly?” Prince Doran states.

“I was born in Dorne, do you know that?” Jon says shyly. He doesn’t know how to approach Doran, he feels like the reason he lost his sister.

Doran and Oberyn look at each other.

“You are…Ned Stark’s bastard…the one born at the end of the rebellion.” Oberyn blurts out.

Jon just nods in response. “I’m surprised you have heard of me, Prince Oberyn.”

“I know some things, I just use him when I need to, but tell me, why are you seeking an alliance with Dorne, nobody cares about us here. We live free and we do what we want.” Oberyn states matter of factly. Jon looks at him contemplatively before finally answering him. “We are after the same thing. It’s actually the same thing that my brother, Robb Stark wants right now as well.”

“And that would be?” Doran asks. He is curious as to what would make a bastard come down to Dorne just to speak to him, when no one from the Seven Kingdoms has done so in many years.

“The head of Tywin Lannister” Jon says quickly. This gets Oberyn’s attention. He hadn’t thought much of this Jon Snow, but anyone willing to remove Tywin’s head is worth listening to in his opinion.

“Leave us” Doran states. The guards file out, along with Areo Hotah, Ellaria Sand, and the three present sand snakes. They look back at Jon with a curious look before finally exiting the gardens.

“How do you plan to get rid of Tywin?” Oberyn asks. He want to know what he has in mind. He has is own ideas, but he wants to know why this bastard seems to care so much about Tywin.

“Well, first I’m going to say that Dorne is revolting against Prince Doran, with the help of Oberyn Martell. Tywin believes that he can somehow bring Dorne back into the Seven Kingdoms. They believe Doran to be weak and Ellaria convinced Oberyn into a coup. She really believes that by the way.” Oberyn and Doran glance at each other. “Then i’m going to make a deal with the Tyrells to secure the Reach with fighting men, in exchange for half of their harvest, securing the Reach away from Tywin, so that he can’t use them to defend Kings Landing when Stannis comes to do battle on the Blackwater. He will be stuck between the Reach, the Stormlands, and the North, he will have no choice but to approach Dorne for help. That is when you capture him. I will then call for a council of the Seven Kingdoms and I will stake my claim for the Iron Throne. Robb will have Ser Jamie Lannister as a hostage. The Vale will have Tyrion. You will have Tywin. Stannis will hopefully capture Joffrey. The Westerlands will have no choice but to acquiesce to my demands. But I still have a way to take Casterly Rock, and possibly sway the Iron Bank in my favor if need be.” Jon lays out his carefully made plans. The two princes are silent with contemplation. They are impressed at this method of planning before realization hits them.

“Your claim to the Iron Throne?” Doran says.

“Aye” Jon says with a grin.

“Then, there is more to you then you are leading us to believe then, is it?” Oberyn asks.

“Aye, my real name is Jaehaerys Targaryen, but until I remove the heads of Tywin Lannister, Amory Lorch, and Ser Gregor Clegane, my name is Aegon Targaryen. The name of my dead brother, your nephew, the Son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Silence.

Utter Silence.

Oberyn opens and then closes his mouth. Doran is speechless. They stare at Jon for a good while before anyone speaks. Their eyes open wide at the implication and magnitude of what was just said. This boy was Lyanna Starks’ son. The silence is broken by a servant rushing in towards Prince Doran. “Apologies my Prince, a man is here to see your guest. Claims his name is Ser Davos and he has a girl with him.” the servant says to Doran. “Send him in” Doran says.

Ser Davos walks in with the Lady Shireen Baratheon at his side. He has a fancy sword on his hip and he walks toward Jon. Jon looks at him and notices he has no stags on his clothing anymore. The Lady Shireen looks confused, but she’s not upset with Davos. Davos walks up to Jon and slowly gets closer and closer until he bends down on one knee. “I’m sorry that I failed you, but I will serve you faithfully, and will shield your back and keep your council if you’ll have me.” Ser Davos unsheathes the sword and instead of placing it at Jon’s feet he holds it up for Jon to take.

Jon grabs the sword from Ser Davos and inspects it. He has a wide grin on his face. “Thank you Ser Davos for returning Blackfyre to it’s rightful owner. I’m not the same Jon Snow that you knew before, but I accept your oath all the same. You are among friends here.”

“Now that I have my sword, which I promised to my father to find, I can ask…Prince Oberyn…care to accompany me on a hunt in the Riverlands?” Jon asks with a dark look in his eyes.

“What do I need to hunt in the Riverlands?” Oberyn asks quizzingly. None of the boys plans detailed anything in the Riverlands, unless he wanted to seek vengeance on someone that had done him wrong. Caetlyn Stark maybe. He is confused because he hadn’t mentioned her once, so what in the Riverlands could possibly interest him? He thoughts are broken with just two simple words.

“A Mountain.” Jon replies.

Oberyn grins like a child, from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the plan begins to come together...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon sheds more light in Dorne. A sword is returned. Another meeting. A raven is sent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a new chapter. Words keep coming. Trying to do the characters justice.

Oberyn Martell

“There is more…” Jon says to the two brothers.

“What do you mean?” Doran says.

“The army that I mean to take the Reach with…they are the Wildlings living beyond the wall…” Jon says.

Davos and Ser Allister look up at this, they are starting to understand the complexities of this plan. With the Wildlings in the Reach, Jon will have access to the Gold of the Tyrells if he wants. If they don’t cooperate, the Reach will be completely wiped out and the Wildlings will control the food supply of all of Westeros. Jon Snow is a mad man. He can even placate the Iron Bank with this. Furthermore, the Wildlings don’t give two shits about any lords or promises. They will be completely loyal to Jon. This plan could work.

“Why would I trust the Wildlings with anything?” Doran asks.

“The Wildlings are the most loyal army you will ever know. More loyal than sell swords, and they follow orders better than anyone. Plus, they will want to survive the Winter. This is the way to ensure that. War makes strange bedfellows, i’m told. I’m sure Prince Oberyn must have seen a lot of wars to have such strange bedfellows, eh?” Jon retorts.

Prince Oberyn lets out a laugh. “I like you, boy, you are pretty and smart, plus you want to help me avenge Elia. Are you sure you’re not taken?” Oberyn says suggesitvely.

“Oberyn, cut it out. This is our guest.” Doran says apologetically.

“It’s alright Prince Oberyn. I have been told that you haven’t succeeded in persuading someone in Dorne until someone tries to fuck you.” Jon spits out.

Davos is covering Lady Shireen’s ears, while the others hearing the conversation just chuckle.

“On to other matters, why do the Wildlings need to survive?” Prince Doran says.

“I’ll show you.” Jon says. He nods at Ser Allister.

Ser Allister brings the crate with a wight. He pries the crate open and It runs towards Jon before being pulled back by the chain, just out of reach. A dead man with blue eyes, right before Oberyn’s eyes. He knows there is never just one cockroach, there have to be many more of them. It all makes sense now.

“Kill it if you can Prince Oberyn.” Jon says while staring at the wight.

Oberyn pulls out his spear and throws it through the head of the wight. The wight then turns to Prince Oberyn and lunges in his direction. Oberyn is dumbfounded. The wight didn’t budge when struck through the head with his spear.

“They can only be killed by, fire, Dragonglass, and Valyrian Steel. If these things make it to Dorne, then we are already all dead.” Jon states seriously.

“Ominous tidings” Prince Doran says. “We will spin your tale, we will send ravens that Oberyn is joining forces with the boy calling himself Aegon Targaryen. and you and Oberyn will have ten thousand Dornish Spears.”

“Thank you Prince Doran, I have some ravens to send as well. Prince Oberyn, will you show me to the Tower of Joy?” Jon asks. Oberyn nods.

“This way.” Oberyn says leading Jon to the horse stables.

Getting to the stables, Jon is reminded of how he rode a dragon. He thinks back to how alive he felt on Rhaegal’s back. His concentration is broken by Ser Davos riding up beside him “We need to talk.” Davos muttered.

“Do we?” Jon states.

“We do, Aegon Targaryen. Is that your real name?” Davos questions.

“It is until I separate three men’s heads from their bodies. In which case i’ll go by my real name, Jaehaerys.” Jon states.

Davos just rides beside him silently. He realizes the implications of what he had been told. Maester Aemon’s appearance at Dragonstone makes sense now. He starts to piece together when Jon found out and that he wasn’t there for him when he needed him. He was just serving a good man. Until it all went to seven hells. Why did no one question why Jon was riding a dragon? That Daenerys was attracted to him and him to her since they first met. He feels like an idiot.

They arrive at the Tower of Joy. Jon observes his birthplace wordlessly. The Tower of Joy is deserted. No one has been here for years. He walks up the long steps, remembering that this is where Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower died trying to save him, their King. This fills Jon with resolve. He goes inside the tower. He grabs a parchment and paper and starts writing scrolls. One to the Vale. to Lord Bronze Yohn Royce. One to Dragonstone, to Lady Melisandre. One to Qarth to Daenerys. He has much trouble with the scroll to Qarth, but he manages to finish it. After he finishes the scroll and descends the stairs, Ser Davos and Ser Allister are conversing and they look up and see him. They bow politely. Prince Oberyn has gone to retrieve his things and will return. He is informed. Jon nods. He goes to find the Godswood, which is near, he can tell because the scenery is familiar to when he had the visit to his parents. With resolve and determination, he touches the tree…

Mance Rayder

“What do you boys think, why would a Crow send us Dragonglass?” How would some Crow know that the Others can be killed with them? And the strangest part is that they know where we are. No ranger has gotten within a hundred miles of this place without getting killed. Craster is dead I heard, and good riddance. He was a foul man. Another thing is that the Crows have been silent ever since they sent us these weapons.”

Tormund and Styr just shrug at him. They don’t care much, they are just glad that they have a way to fend of the Others in small numbers. They grabbed a few wights from the message they got from the Wall, thinking that the Old Gods were speaking to them.

“Maybe all the Crows don’t want to see you die.” Jon says upon entering the tent. Styr is sharpening an axe, while Tormund is eating a roasted meat. They draw their weapons after hearing the voice. “A crow, snuck up on us? Who let you in here?” Tormund asks. Styr is just staring at him with his axe on the ready to strike.

“The Old Gods, obviously.” Jon says sarcastically.

“Why are you here? You’re going to have a hard time killing all three of us even if you can fight. You’ll be dead before you can whistle. I’d bet even Val could take you out. Jon ducks the swing of a spear from behind him. He quickly cuts the head of the spear off. Styr rushes at him with his axe and Jon stick his sword into the ground. He doges the axe several times before head butting Styr and kicking him into the dirt. Tormund has a laugh and Mance just looks on curiously. “Look at the pretty fucker go!” Tormund says. Mance stands up and looks at Jon before saying to Styr “Stand down, if he wanted blood, one of us would be dead already.”

“What do you want boy?” Mance asks curiously. He thought the boy in Black was here to kill him, thinking that he recognized him from Winterfell. He knows the boy is familiar but he can’t place his name. “For you men, women, children, giants, ice river clans, and even the fucking Thenns to survive the winter.” Jon says to him with a stern look.

“You were the one that sent the message through the Tarly boy? He seems taken with one of Crasters wives? Daughters?” Mance says. Jon nods in return. “Did you capture the wights?” Mance nods.

“How many?”

“Seven.”

“What did you want them for?” He asks Jon, Tormund and Styr are just staring at him and Val is listening intently.

“To convince the Lords that need convincing south of the wall, to show the Iron Bank and the Citadel so that my plans come together.” Jon says.

“What plans? Don’t play with us boy.” Mance asks seriously.

“I am going to send my man, Ser Davos with ships to ferry you south. You get to Eastwatch by the sea and you do it soon. The Great Other will wake soon. He will have an army too big for you to stop with what little Dragonglass you have. The little skirmishes you have had are nothing compared to what will come after. If you want your people to survive, then lead them, Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-wall.” Jon explains.

“Where will we go when we get south of the wall, if we do this?” Mance asks.

“The Reach. They have enough food to feed your people for the next Winter and the Winters after that. Plus their people can’t fight. So you will offer them protection in exchange for food. Half of their harvest is more than enough. When the war with the Others is over, you will have your pick of lands to settle on. They have a lot of Gold, but you won’t need it. You will be one of the most powerful men in Westeros if the Tyrells agree to your terms. If they don’t, then you will just need to persuade them then.” Jon says with a smile. Mance gets the plan and how it could work, but why does this boy care for his people so? He has a large army, but he will be surrounded by the rest of Westeros. He doesn’t know if he can trust this boy with a fancy sword and pretty words.

“I don’t trust you with my people boy, you are not one of us and I don’t know you. You are just some crow that wants to-“ Mance says before he is cut off.

“The freedom to make your own mistakes, that is all you ever wanted…right?” Jon retorts.

Mance just sits there in silence. He knows now that there is something special about this boy. Something he just can’t put his finger on. Not knowing whether to trust him with is people is weighing heavily upon his mind. However, he doesn’t have any other way to save his people other than getting them killed by the thousands at the Wall. Mance is unable to come up with an answer easily.

“First, Tormund, go and touch the face of the nearest Godswood Tree.” He holds up one finger on his hand.

“Second, send a few good men to the Great Weirwood Tree. They need to help a crippled boy named Bran and his friends survive, along with his direwolf, named Summer.” His second finger is raised.

“Third, if you are going to attack me, do it with better weapons.” He grabs Blackfyre from the ground and cuts the blade of Styr’s axe clean in two.

“Survive Mance, you and Dalla will be great parents…” Jon exits the tent. Mance goes out of the tent and looks for him but he doesn’t see him at all. Val just sighs “Damn, I was going to steal that one…”

Qarth

Jorah looks to Daenerys like he would follow her to the ends of the earth. He is contemplative before he hands her a scroll, he’s skeptical, but then he remembers the woman with the mask that told him to hand it to her without reading it when the time came. Could this scroll seal his fate?

Daenerys reads the scroll several times. Her eyes widen, then darken, then widen again. She looks at Rhaegal and then she asks Ser Jorah, “Where did you get this message?” He answers her. “It came here, for you. From Dorne.”

“Dorne” she deadpans.

“Yes, Khaleesi.” Jorah laments.

“I need some time to myself, leave me Ser.”

“As you wish, Khaleesi.”

Daenerys holds the scroll up and reads it again, trying to make sense of the words.

To Daenerys Stormborn, of House Tarygaryen, Mother of Dragons,

Westeros is stubborn in it’s customs…they will see you as the Mad Kings Daughter…it would be a mistake to think that you are entitled to the throne…but you will earn it all the same.

I’m sorry you had to watch Viserys die…That had to be one of the worst days of your life.

You are not alone…You never have been…

The Old Gods, The Seven, The Lord of Light, The Drowned God, they are all real. But they all fear the Dragon. The Dragon takes what it wants…

You are not A Queen, not my Queen, you are THE Queen. But only if you feel as though you deserve it. No one can tell you. You must find this for yourself. A dragon is no slave. Do not be a slave to the Iron Throne.

I failed you, and one of the few things I actually want, is your forgiveness.

Wear Armor to protect your heart…don’t fill it so much that you can not leave room for yourself.

Keep the Dragons close to you always. They will always be your children.

Beware of Doreah, she has no real love for Dragons.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos’ vault is empty.

To Win against a warlock, you must have something that they want and use it against them. They want the Dragons.

I didn’t tell you enough. I love you.

Dragonstone will have a red door and a lemon tree when you arrive.

If you want to kill me, at least it’ll put me in the same room as you.

If you don’t trust me…Keep Rhaegal away. I can see you through his eyes.

I know that you dream about me and weep every night. It is the same for me.

Truly yours,

My name is not really important.

She reads the last line before clenching her fists and rage envelops her, followed by sadness. Through a broken voice and tears she whispers just a few words. “Jon…fucking…Snow…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I pulled that off successfully. Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are happening. Information spreads to the capital. Jon makes it to the Riverlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorta dreamed up this chapter. It happens sometimes. I don’t pretend to know anything. I just type.

Daenerys Targaryen

A Dagger.

She wakes up with a dagger sticking out of her black Dress. She can’t feel it, but the dagger is there. There is a pool of blood underneath her. Drogon is roaring, it shakes the earth. A man is standing there. He’s teary eyed. He gently lowers her to the ground. Was he afraid of her, is that why he did it? Suddenly she looks around and notices that ashes are everywhere and that she is in a burnt city. A throne, the Iron Throne, Is seen just up the small stairs from where they are.

Light flashes and she’s back at a castle. Queen Rhaella’s crown is on her head. Sitting on a black throne. Before her is this same man that just lowered her to the ground after killing her.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Khaleesi of the great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains.” A pretty Essosi girl announces from her right. A golden-haired, but watchful dwarf is on her right. Two soldiers are behind her. One Dothraki and one in all black, expressionless. Ser Jorah and another, older knight are with her as well. Who are these people? She looks the doors to the throne room and they are painted Red. She smiles at that.

“This is Jon Snow. The King in the North. The White Wolf, The Hidden Dragon.” Hidden Dragon? At this, a tiny Rhaegal flies over to his shoulder. Why would Rhaegal fly to this man’s shoulder? A Snow?, what is a Snow? At this the Iron Throne appears before her again and the others disappear. The swords that make up the throne turn in to seven arms made of Iron and grab Jon Snow and place him on the Throne, placing a golden crown with a large ruby with two smaller rubies on the left and right of the larger one. He looks indifferent to this. Jon snow stands up determined and takes his crown off. He places it on her head and it turns into her mother’s crown. He gets on one knee and presents her with her mother’s ring. “Will you do the honor of marrying me, sealing your forgiveness of me, and sharing our power to be dragons in the sky of Westeros, bringing freedom to our people, Dany...?” OUR? Why did her heart melt when he called he Dany? Why did she want to say yes? This man just killed her, said he was King in the North, took Rhaegal from her, and then gave her the Iron Throne...How can he call himself King if she was the Queen? I suppose there can be a Queen and a King...which means that they would need to marry...which implies that she loved him...she looks down at her feet and notices a swollen belly...What...the...fuck....

She is jolted awake by Irri, “Khaleesi, Khaleesi!”

“Yes, Irri, I’m awake.” She says.

“Sorry for waking you. You were sweating, and you looked like you were about to start crying.” Irri stated.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She responded. Irri just looks at her concerned, and then walks away. She grabs a warm, wet towel and puts it to Daenerys’ face. She realizes that Irri wasn’t there in her throne room and it saddens her. She cheers up knowing that with her dreams coming true sometimes and each of her dreams can’t possibly all happen, then it gives her hope.

Irri gets closer and whispers I’m her ear “We caught Doreah trying to steal the dragons, Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos appear to be working together to overthrow and run Qarth.” This angers her, and now she knows the raven from Dorne was telling the truth.

A glimpse of her dream occurs to her...Pyat Pree with his lips more blue than usual, was chained in the background. He was unable to speak or move, was it fear? Or maybe was he just weak. There was also an odd white tree with red leaves, it had a face that seemed to be watching her every move.

What in the hells is she going to do?

Kings Landing

Littlefinger and Varys are standing before the Iron Throne. They turn to where they are facing each other and staring in each other’s eyes.

“Someone is spinning a complicated web, one that I can’t seem to unravel.” Varys states. He is receiving strange reports more and more every day. Strange reports. A Targaryen in Dorne? Why would he not know this? A Targaryen would likely oppose the Lannisters, but only ten thousand Dornish spears have been spotted moving. Where are they going? That’s not enough to take Kings Landing, but it’s just enough to make a difference without being spotted easily. Littlefinger…?

“Looks like the Spider is too small to determine the size of his own Web” Lord Baelish says with a small grin. He has gotten reports of dissent in Dorne. Oberyn reportedly rebelled against his brother, but why? What does Oberyn want to gain? Which one of them would be more loyal to the crown? Why was the name Aegon Targaryen heard? Could this be Varys? It would make sense for him to support A Targaryen…

“I heard a story like this…A mockingbird looks for ripe fruit, fruit kissed by fire…not careful to avoid what he does and doesn’t know, the mockingbird will get his wings clipped.” Varys says with a small smile.

“And I heard a story like this…A spider thinks his web is the realm…but the dragon burns his web to naught but ash…” Littlefinger says with a smile back.

“Is it you?” they ask at each other at the same time. They pause. They each think the other is responsible for the misinformation, but to what end…? Not to support the idiot Joffrey. Maybe a new rebellion is brewing. They both close their mouths and stew with contemplation.

“Going to be an interesting thing when Tywin finally moves to defend Kings Landing from Stannis. I’ll be-” Littlefinger states before he is cut off.

“Heading to the Vale to profess your undying love for the very stable Lysa Arryn, or was it North to pledge yourself to Lady Catelyn Stark after giving her and her son Ned Stark’s bones as a gesture?” Varys states. “They have no love for the crown, so I must wonder, how does the mockingbird benefit from this? Could the mockingbird have treasonous intentions?” Varys gasps with feign surprise.

“Pleasing Lords and Ladies is what I’m best at. The mockingbird needs to sing his songs. I hope to find out how we are going to defend this great city. Stannis will put all of our heads on spikes or burn us…”

“Some of us deserve that fate, my Lord” Varys repiles.

Lord Baelish gives Varys a wide smile and a bow. Then he walks away.

Jon Snow

“Thank you Prince Oberyn for the change of clothes.” Jon says. He is still in a black tunic but he has some grey accents and some red fabric woven in. It reminds him of what he saw Rhaegar wear at his wedding to his mother. He remembers another part of the conversation with Rhaegar.

“My theory, is that the Three-Eyed Raven is powerful, but not all-powerful. It slowly takes over persons mind, like madness did to my father Aerys. They need an anchor to keep them human. Usually that’s the ego of the person that it consumes. It can’t directly affect things but he can answer questions that he is asked. It’s the power emanating from Qarth that combines with a potent bloodline that gives Daenerys those dreams that she gets. That power of the raven is limited by the number of people sharing your bloodline. The current Three-eyed raven is a Targaryen, Brendyn Rivers, the Bloodraven. So there’s a tug-of-war going on between the Three-Eyed Raven, the Night King or the Great Other, the Warlocks of Qarth, The Lord of Light and the Fiery Hand, and even the Many-faced God or Red God. The Seven is the representation of the power of Man. That’s why each of them has a mortal title. I don’t pretend to know how all of this works, but I think that you are caught in the middle of this. As I mentioned the current Raven is a Targaryen. The next one will be a Stark, I think. It’s in their best interest to protect at least some of their own blood. That’s why some people are more protected than others, I think. Mind you, this is just a theory and I don’t know anything really, just that it’s been a recent obsession of mine. I hope you will at least find some comfort in the fact that you are special. And, no…That’s not the reason I chose your mother. I love her with all my heart. You as well…” Rhaegar whispers in his ear.

Jon and Oberyn are in the Riverlands. Jon doesn’t really know this area. He neglected these lessons from Maester Luwin, due to Lady Stark and her negative attitude. He laments this, as all he knows is that Mountain is here to raze the villages and burn them in response for Tyrion’s capture. He sent a Raven to Lord Yohn Royce to keep Tyrion at the Vale. Tyrion was his friend once, but no longer. He wonders what he will do with Tyrion, he can’t do much but scheme and plot, just like Lord Baelish and Varys. He has not, however committed a crime yet, and Jon doesn’t want to execute a man without a trial. That’s a mistake he is not prepared to make. Back to the Riverlands his thoughts turn. He doesn’t know where Lady Catelyn grew up because he never cared. Not a good idea to go looking for trouble, when he doesn’t know where he is. He needs a Riverlander…not exactly words he thought he would ever say…

Damn it to all hells.

“Plotting the conquest of Westeros then? You have been silent for a little while.” Oberyn japes.

“I need someone to map out the Riverlands for me. This is the one region that I didn’t read up on. Ghost can’t exactly sniff out the Mountain.” Jon jests back.

Oberyn nods with understanding.

They steer their horses to a halt. Tents are off in the distance. He looks around and it feels familiar. Looking for the banners, he spots the grey Direwolf Sigil. His heart threatens to burst from his chest and his breathing gets heavy at the implication.

“Halt, who goes there?” two riders ride up and announce.

“Jon Snow and Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne. You are Karstark and and Glover men no doubt. Who is the commanding officer of this encampment?” Jon asks. He doesn’t know who is here under Robb’s banners. Hopefully it’s not Roose Bolton, it would be a poor situation for Ghost to kill Roose without speaking to Robb himself first.

“The King in the North, Robb Stark is here. Are you really Jon Snow?” the solder asks.

He nods to the questioning soldiers, they look pleased. This eases Jon’s heart, Robb is a King. Maybe he knows that he’s no longer at the Wall and instructed his men to be on the lookout. The Lord Commander gave him and Ser Allister leave. He left Ser Allister in Dorne to see through the relocation of the Free Folk. A task that Ser Allister would have killed him for. Progress made. He is starting to understand how being A king could benefit the world. For one of the few times in his life, he feels as though his life has some value. Some Northerners may have issues but it’s a better story than he died and was brought back, and he has sung that song before. He never thought that he would be this nervous.

Jon is excited at this point. Robb is here? Doing battle with the Riverlands? He will be doing him a favor by killing the Mountain. Tywin will be making plans, but will be thrown off by the fact that some of the Dornish army is behind him. This is the first time he really feels the burden of his power. It’s about to get serious. His eyes darken at the implication that this is really happening. Robb will not die if he can help it.

“Aye, take me to Robb, if you will.” Jon says.

He hates the fact that he needs to talk to Lady Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter went well. Thanks for the comments. I read them all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greywind and Ghost size each other up. A Lion is tamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter.

Robb Stark

Greywind was acting strange. He’s excited like he hasn’t been for a while. His tail wagging is about to knock over the lanterns and tables. What’s gotten in to him. A soldier comes in to report to him. “Your grace, Jon Snow and Prince Oberyn Martell here to see you.” Talisa and Lady Catelyn look up at this. He didn’t notice that his mother grimaced when she heard Jon Snow’s name.

What!? “Send them in.” He says.

Ghost comes barging in with a white blur, straight at Greywind. They wrestle around for a while, sniffing each other.

Jon walks in with a smile on his face, and Oberyn walks in behind him. He’s a prince, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Jon nods at him and then his eyes seek out Talisa and Lady Catelyn. The smile is gone.

Robb starts walking quickly towards Jon and before Lady Catelyn can get the words out, Jon says “A king must show no emotion at Court-“ Robb doesn’t care. He hugs him like like they are going to die tomorrow. Ghost runs up to him and rubs his head into his torso. Robb is just laughing like a kid and rubs Ghosts’ head. Greywind does the same to Jon.

Jon is the first to speak after a few moments of silence. “I brought gifts, brother.” Robb stares at him quizzingly. “Like a prince? Is he some sort of hostage?”

“Like ten thousand Dornish spears...” Jon states.

“Why would the Dornish follow you?” Lady Catelyn asks.

Prince Oberyn is the one to answer. “He had a compelling case as to why Tywin Lannister should be relieved of his head...”

“Is that so?” Robb states. Talisa finally gets up and walks up to Jon, standing next to Robb. “Jon Snow then? I have heard a lot about you.” She reaches out her hand for Jon to shake. He hugs her. “Oh, right, Jon, sorry...meet-“

“Talisa” Jon says.

Robb and Catelyn’s eyes widen with surprise. How does he know her name? Robb ponders.

“I have...much to talk to you about. Some of it will be a bit weird...” Jon says.

Brienne of Tarth walks in to the tent. She looks at Oberyn and Jon oddly, then goes to stand by Lady Stark.

“Prince Oberyn, Lady Brienne, Lady Talisa. May I speak with Lord and Lady Stark for a bit, if you don’t mind?” Jon asks.

Robb turns to Oberyn. “Prince Oberyn, thank you for agreeing to help us with Tywin. We are grateful for your fighting men. If you will speak to Greatjon Umber, he will show you where to set up your camp.” Oberyn nods and then exits the tent. Brienne follows suit and leaves. Talisa is starting to leave when Jon says. “Actually, Talisa can stay.” Talisa’s eyes go back and forth between Catelyn, Robb, and Jon. Robb nods at her and she goes to her original resting spot.

Jon checks to see if the others have left and turns back to Robb. He punches him in the gut.

“Jon...” Robb says. Lady Catelyn and Talisa look up concerned, but don’t move.

“Theon fucking Greyjoy...” Jon says. Lady Stark looks down at the floor at the mention of that name.

Robb stands upright and regains his composure. “I’ll kill him myself.” Robb states.

“How do you know all of this? You never met Brienne or Talisa, have you sent some one to spy on-“ Lady Stark is interrupted by Jon.

“Bran and Rickon survived. They hid in the crypts with Osha and Maester Luwin snuck them food when no one was looking.”

There is a long silence.

Lady Stark’s face betrays her. She goes through a range of happy, questioning, sad, then determination. “Did you have a part in this? I swear to the Gods if you-“ she is once again cut off by Jon.

“Shut the fuck up Lady Stark.” He looks at her with a look that burns through her soul.

Robb recovers his shock. “Go on” he says.

“Bran is going North of the Wall, for reasons that you won’t understand right now. He is with Hodor, and Jojen and Meera Reed. Not to mention Summer. He will return.” Jon says with an uneasy look. Robb doesn’t know how to take that information. He’s alive but North of the Wall? Was this why Jon left the Wall? To tell him this?

“Bran sent Rickon to the Last Hearth...he is with Osha and Shaggy there...”Jon says with sadness. What’s that about? Robb isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“Arya?” Catelyn blurts out. Jon looks at her and finally answers. “She escaped Kings Landing right when...Joffrey...ordered...” Jon pauses. “She made her way North with Yoren, a brother of the Nights Watch. Joffrey ordered Robert’s...bastards killed and the Gold Cloaks caught up to them. Yoren is dead. Arya is...I gave her a sword...” Jon says with a smile.

“A sword!? No wonder she was so insufferable with Septa Mordane. Why would you give a little girl a swor-“ She is cut off yet again.

“So that she might live.” Jon says with narrowed eyes. Robb is grinning.

“You’ve been to Dorne, how did that come about?” Robb asks.

“Turns out I was born there. You know how weird the Dornish are.” Jon shrugs.

“I like him.” Talisa states with a bright smile.

“How are we going to get Sansa out of the capital?” Robb says. Catelyn looks up at the mention of her name. Jon shrugs. “Aren’t you the King? You’re supposed to have a plan for stuff like that...” he says nonchalantly. “Oh, yeah...Arya is at Harrenhal surrounded by Lannister soldiers. Tywin will be there soon. She has her hair cut and is dressed like a boy.” Robb and Catelyn look perturbed at this, but not Jon.

“You have a plan, then?” Robb says.

Jon nods in response. “You will not like it.”

“Go on then” Robb says.

“Robb Stark. King in the North. I hereby declare war on you. You have lost all the Stark children and the North should no longer follow you. I don’t want to kill you since you are the last male Stark, but I will take Winterfell from you. I hereby legitimize myself Jon Stark, the true King in the North.”

Robb, Catelyn and Talisa are staring at Jon with shock on their faces. They didn’t know that he was this crafty.

There’s a long period of silence before Jon finally speaks. “You have a place for me to set up camp, and about two thousand men?” Robb knows that if Jon declares war on him, he will instantly know which houses are disloyal if they flock to Jon. Tywin may even make overtures to his camp.

Robb lets out a burst of laughter. “You crafty bastard. I don’t like it. I love it.” Talisa smirks in the corner.

“There are more things you need to know...it’s best we have that conversation alone...” Jon says. He glances over at Talisa and Lady Stark. “If you will excuse us…my ladies” They get up and start to move towards the exit. “Lady Stark...” Jon says. She stops at the mention of her name. She hasn’t really looked at Jon the last few minutes. She considers the fact that they are at war. But she still doesn’t like the boy. She just can’t, she hates herself for it. It makes her feel uneasy. He brought ten thousand men to her son. They were just talking about how to placate Rickard Karstark and his men after Jaime Lannister killed his sons. If Jaime dies, then it makes them more vulnerable to Twyin, but if they keep him alive they lose some fighting men. It’s a terrible situation. Why is she still unable to like this boy? Is it because she doesn’t have power over him, and that he used what everyone thinks about bastards to his advantage? It’s remarkable. But she still doesn’t trust him. She is interrupted by the same boy, sounding oddly like a king, no less.

“Me and Oberyn are going to kill the Mountain. Tywin is sending him to burn the villages in the Riverlands. The villages you grew up in. They will claim that they are looking for the Brotherhood without Banners, but it’s retaliation for you taking Tyrion. That was a stupid thing to do. But we will use it to our advantage. I need you to show me the terrain and how to approach without being seen.” Lady Stark thinks for a second, then nods.

Jon walks up to her and whispers in her ear. “When you leave this tent. Make sure that you stand close enough to listen to me and Robb’s conversation…” Lady Catelyn doesn’t respond in any way. She just walks out of the tent.

Robb is now pouring two glasses of wine. He offers Jon one and he accepts it.

“What shall we drink to?” Robb raises his glass.

“Plans made, futures secure.” Jon says.

“Well then, tell me who this is that is in this tent with me. You may look like him, but you are not Jon Snow…” Robb says with a smile.

“Tell me that no matter what happens, you will always be my brother” Jon says.

“Of course” Robb says.

Jon fills Robb in on his plans. The Reach. The Vale. The Wildlings. Dorne.

Stannis and Joffrey. He reluctantly tells Robb about the North. The Boltons, the Karstarks, Smalljon Umber. Robb is slowly sipping his wine and taking in this information. Robb sets his glass down.

“You didn’t answer my question. Just who are you?” Robb says.

Wondering if he wants Lady Stark to hear, Jon leans in and shares his real name Jaehaerys Targaryen. And the name he’s using to conquer, Aegon Targaryen.

A soldier comes in, breaking the silence. He whispers in Robbs ear. Send him in, Robb says.

Bronze Yohn Royce enters the tent. He nods at Robb and then begins looking at Jon.

Robb finally speaks. “Right, Lord Royce, thank you for treating with us. I’d like you to meet my brother-“ Lord Royce cuts him off.

“Jon Snow” Lord Royce states. “I though you were a damned fool. Leading the Wildlings. Bringing a Targaryen to the North. Turns out I just didn’t know anything, I should have spoke up sooner. But you the only real King I will ever serve. The Vale is yours” He bent down on one on knee and placed his sword at Jons’s feet. “Lysa Arryn?” Jon asks.

Lord Royce looks up. “She signed a confession stating that she poisoned Jon Arryn, at the behest of Petyr Baelish. Unable to live with the guilt when asked about it, she threw herself from the Moon Door.” Lord Royce states, still bent on his knee. Jon gestures for him to rise.

A gasp is heard outside the tent.

“Thank you for choosing to follow me, my Lord. I hope I’m not the worst liege lord you can ask for.” Jon says with a smile. “We are going to get this right. For Waymar.” Jon says and nods.

Lord Royce stiffens and then nods “For Waymar.”

After a brief silence, Lord Royce says. “I brought you Tyrion Lannister, do with him what you will.” Jon clenches his fist and nods.

“Robb, can you get me Brienne? I need to speak to Ser Jaime.”

Jaime Lannister

Jon Snow is standing in front of him, he knows that. Does he know that? This is the boy that he japed at for going to the wall isn’t it? Why does he see Rhaegar in front of him? Why does it feel like Ser Arthur Dayne has come to cut him down? He just looks up at him. He feels like he’s ready to die.

He glances at the sword on Jon Snow’s hip. Is that a Ruby on the pommel?

“Protect my family, Ser Jaime...” Jon says. That’s the last words Rhaegar said to Jaime.

Jaime faints.

He opens his eyes and he’s at the Godswood with Jon Snow and Brienne of Tarth. Everyone is silent. It’s as if the the tree is alive, strange tree, Jaime thinks. Is this why the Northerners survive winter so well? He thinks to himself.

“Touch the tree.” Jon Snow says to him. “You touch it as well, Lady Brienne. Come and join us when you are done.” She just stares at the tree.

He slowly touches the tree. The face on the tree doesn’t move at all. The tree pricks his finger.

Memories are flooded into him. Bad memories, good memories, horrible memories...

He faints again.

He wakes up in a tent. Suddenly he thinks to himself. I just saw that boy looking like Rhaegar in the flesh. He rode that dragon in the battle at Winterfell...could it be...?

“Ser Jaime, thank you for joining us.” Jon says. He looks around and sees Robb Stark, Yohn Royce and Lady Catelyn. They look at him disinterested.

“So as long as you don’t try anything, you probably will keep your head.” Jon says.

“What...is this...you are...” Jon holds his hand up to silence Jaime.

“Can’t go spilling all my secrets can you?” Jon says with a grin.

Brienne rushes in to the tent. She is angry. “You motherfucker!” She yells. She punches him hard in the jaw. He slumps over. “You pushed a little boy out of a window for your sister, and marched to die for what exactly?” He looks at Jon oddly.

Jon runs over to Jaime quickly and pushes Brienne off of him.

“You did what!?” Jon says. He didn’t know that Jaime crippled Bran.

“I...crippled...a ten year old boy...he saw me sleeping with Cersei...” Jaime says with his head down.

Jon clenches and unclenches his fist, then he stares determinedly to Jaime.

“Present to me your right hand...” Jon says with a gleam in his eyes.

Jaime looks shocked and then understanding.

“It’s because you told me of your own volition that I am not taking your head. Your right hand?” Jon says.

Jaime gets on his knees and presents his right hand.

Jon unsheathes Blackfyre. This is one of the most beautiful swords I have ever seen, Jaime thinks to himself. Jon takes the sword in his hand, holding it up. No one says anything. Yohn Royce looks on with approval, all the others are stoic. He swings Blackfyre quickly and takes Jaime’s sword hand clean off.

Jaime faints again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion speaks to a dragon. Catelyn maps out the Riverlands. Mountains are seen in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. More words leaked out of my head. Hopefully you like them.

Tyrion Lannister

Darkness.

His face has been covered since he left the Vale, he has been gagged as well. He was with Lord Yohn Royce one moment, and then the next, he was by a Godswood. After touching the Godswood tree, the Lord acted a little differently. He was instructed to touch the tree as well and he did. Memories burst into him like pot of wildfire. He looks at Lord Royce with pleading eyes. Lord Royce removes the gag from his mouth.

“Please tell me you are not taking me to my father.” Tyrion says. He’s afraid of him, even after he killed him. He thought Daenerys was bad, and used his wicked tongue to convince Jon to kill her. That won’t ever work again.

He’s a dead man.

Lord Royce shakes his head. Tyrion is glad to hear this. Maybe he can go somewhere and disappear into a quiet life before he gets found by anyone that wants to hurt or kill him. He’s not sure what Lord Royce wants him for though.

“I’m taking you to Jon Snow.” Lord Royce admits.

I’m done.

Light.

The sack has been taken off of his head and his eyes adjust to the light in the tent. Nothing but dirt and iron seems to be laying around. A voice breaks his concentration.

“My Lord Hand” Jon Snow says to him with darkness in his eyes.

Tyrion just cowers. “No, no, no, no, no…” He regains his composure.

“Last Dragon.” Tyrion says.

“How did it go, getting what you wanted?” Jon states.

“Not as good as I’d hoped.” Tyrion admits. He pauses for a moment.

“You were hoping for…?” Jon asks.

“Enough wine to drown myself with” Tyrion replies.

Jon scoffs.

“What will you do with me?” Tyrion asks.

“Well, as Jon Stark has just declared war on Robb Stark, I need to free one of the hostages to be of use to Tywin. You should understand now.” Jon says with slight grin.

Tyrion looks at him with worry.

“Go ahead and betray me. Tell your father my plans. Who I am, surely he’ll believe you over someone that just brought him his son back when you see him. You haven’t actually committed a crime yet, and I am not Joffrey. The moment you betray me I will demonstrate just how sharp Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen is. We also have your brother. You are about to learn what it means to be truly powerless.” Jon says and then walks away.

“There is a name, a name that I need to speak to you. A name that doesn’t get said. I’m told that it would be troublesome to speak this name.”

“What name is that?”

“Tysha.”

Jon leaves Tyrion sobbing into the ground. Tyrion now knows what Bran meant when he said “Wake the last dragon.”

Jon Snow

Lady Stark, Oberyn Martell and Jon Snow are in a tent together. Jon thinks to himself, strange bedfellows indeed.

“The villages are south of the river. Catelyn is pointing at a map. Going through the shallow crossing will be the easiest way to get in undetected.” Lady Stark states. Jon and Oberyn nod.

“I want this one for myself” Oberyn says.

Jon nods. “We’ll take the others out leave you one on one. Let’s kill that rat bastard. And for the sake of all the Gods, wear a fucking helmet.”

Oberyn shrugs. “As you wish”

Jon looks up at Oberyn, determined. “For Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys.”

“For Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys” Oberyn replies. It’s time.

Oberyn leaves.

“What am I missing, how can I live in the same castle as you for ten and seven years, and yet it feels like the first time I am seeing you?” Lady Catelyn says pointedly.

“You were blinded by your own stupidity. You thought that your faith of the seven teachings were the only way. Maybe you should actually open your eyes when you wake up in the morning” Jon says.

There is silence. Catelyn looks away. “Thank you for helping my children, I don’t deserve your help.”

“Save it, tell them you love them when you see them and be their mother. I don’t know what that’s like.” Jon laments.

Catelyn looks ashamed. She is now afraid of this boy and all the power that he has. He could probably ask Robb for her head and he would do it. She shudders at that thought.

“Tell Sansa not to betray her family. Maybe she can be my sister again one day if she learns that. I could have sent Prince Oberyn to Kings Landing to get her with no problems by now.” Jon says. He quickly turns and leaves for the stables.

Catelyn realizes he is right. A prince could walk right into the capital and no one would bat an eye. Was Sansa being just like her when she earned his ire? Will she get to see her beautiful daughter again? The thoughts weigh heavy upon her mind.

“Lord Royce, Lady Brienne, and Jamie Lannister all claim that they saw you riding a dragon, protecting Winterfell. They seem to be afraid of you, and won’t answer when I ask them directly. I had to overhear it from them.” Lady Stark says.

“Are you afraid of me?” Jon says.

“I won’t say I’m not. I’m sorry for suspecting you would harm my children, and I couldn’t see Theon…I’m just confused about your plan for Westeros. Dorne, The Vale, The North, The Reach, and The Wildlings…that’s enough men to take five Kings Landings. What is it that you want?” she asks.

“If we ever get to a point where I trust you, then I’ll tell you. For now i’ll just tell you that there are just as many walking dead men beyond the Wall that will make sure that the Stark words are true.” he responds.

Winter is Coming.

“So it’s true, I would have thought that you were a liar and a madman. Royce wouldn’t lie about something like that. Brienne believes it as well. I also saw that thing that killed Renly. You’re telling me Bran is out there with those things, cripple and all?” Catelyn asks concerned.

Jon ponders for a little while. He turns to her. “Bran is…different…when he comes back…he’s going to need you…” Her eyes shift away from him and she nods.

“I hope you survive the Mountain.” Catelyn says.

Jon nods. He then leaves the tent.

Catelyn is left to her thoughts…

Oberyn Martell

Oberyn and Jon are walking through the Riverlands. They left the horses behind. Obara, the oldest Sand Snake is with them along with a few soldiers. The white Direwolf as well.A village is spotted. It looks like the people are holed up inside their homes.

Ten horses are spotted in the distance.

There he is. Leading the charge, Ser Gregor Clegane. Oberyn’s blood is pumping. Obara and Jon go ahead through the River while the other soldiers circle around. “Keep one of them alive, we need someone as a witness.” Oberyn says. The others nod. For Elia…

The horses separate and the men climb down. They are looking for trouble, well they found it.

As soon as two men turn the corner to go inside the inn, Jon puts his sword through his throat and Obara uses a dagger to open the other mans throat. They are silent. Eight left. The three soldiers, two Dornish spears and one Northman. They head to the back of the village. The Mountain and two men. Five others. Enough waiting, time for the Viper to strike. He nods to the two Dornish soldiers and they engage the five men. The Northman engages as well. Jon Snow is fast, he thinks. He quickly cuts down two men. His sword goes right through the Lannister men’s armor. The Wolf grabs another silently. “Don’t piss this guy off…” Oberyn thinks after seeing Ghost maul a man. Obara kills another soldier while the two Dornishmen kill a soldier. Three left. It’s time. “Ser Gregor Clegane! This day the Viper comes for you!” The two soldiers run towards him after unsheathing their weapons. Ghost grabs the throat of one and he throws his spear through the leg of another. “Keep this one alive.” He states. The Mountain looks at him with a bloodthirsty look. Time to dance. “Elia Martell, you killed her…I would hear you confess.” “What good is that to dead man?” the Mountain says while he swings his sword. Oberyn dodges. He stabs Ser Gregor in the arm. It doesn’t bother him. “I’ll ask you again. Did you kill Elia Martell?” He keeps dodging and poking him with small stabs. He’s waiting for a big opening. The Mountain appears to be getting frustrated. “I’m gonna kill you!” Ser Gregor states. He is wildly swinging. Oberyn slips while dodging and the Mountain uses his shoulder to knock him down. He swings and cuts him across the chest. It’s going to leave a mark. He uses this opportunity to stab the Mountain in the chest. He trips him and uses the spear to pin him to the ground. Ser Gregor gasps for air. “Elia Martell you fuck, say her name!” Before he passes out, he says it finally. “Elia Martell. I killed her. I raped her. I had orders…no survivors…me and Amory Lorch…the Lord ordered me to…”

Sandor Clegane

He is visited by a strange woman, dressed in red. How did she sneak into King’s Landing without being seen in all that red?

“Your brother is dead, Clegane.” Lady Melisandre states.

“Good riddance, I just wish I could have been there to see it.” The Hound states.

“Look into the flames and you will see.” She says eerily. She is watching him intently, as if she is looking through him. It makes him want her, but she would want him? No one wants a dog. He’s just a killer. Is he just like is brother? Is that why he wanted to kill him? No, it is because of his burnt face. His own brother burnt his face. Who would do something like that? Family protects each other. Even the Lannisters and the Starks protect their family. Ned Stark died trying to do just that. His son went to war to save him. He wishes he had a family like that. The woman breaks his thoughts.

“In the flames I saw you touching a tree. The Lord of Light thinks there is something you need to remember. The tree agrees, Clegane. Touch the tree so that you may learn.” She says before starting to walk away. She stops and turns back to him. “I think your face is just fine the way it is. I could kiss that handsome face...” she leaves. A beautiful woman that wasn’t afraid of him? Who is this woman?

He goes out to the Godswood of Kings Landing. No one is there. He touches the tree hesitantly. Suddenly the world goes black and he sees nothing. Memories spin around in his head. Looking into flames. Beyond the Wall. Arya Stark. Brotherhood without Banners. Brienne of Tarth. His mind goes around around in circles…

Finally he comes to when he hears a voice. “Pardon me kind Ser” A girls voice. He turns and sees Sansa Stark look at him. “I’m sorry, I came here to be alone…” “I can go….”

“Little bird” He says. She looks at him questioningly, she has been crying. He can tell because he spent too long with that idiot Joffrey, he likes making girls cry. Should I kill him? No, I don’t want to die.

“Oh fuck” he says. That cunt Joffrey is still alive. He grabs the girls arm. “Come with me, we need to get out of this shit city” He says.When she pulls her arm back she slips. He tries to catch her but she falls and hits her head on the Heart Tree. She is unconscious.

Damn it to all hells. What do I do now? This looks bad. Me alone with an unconscious girl. And she is hurt. I may be killed for this. I’m not Meryn Trant, I don’t enjoy this. He picks her up and places her on his shoulder. He finds a bag and places it over her so no one will recognize.

“Fuck Joffrey, I’m getting out of this shit city” he says.

Catelyn Stark

Robb just came and told her that she was going to be going with Jon Snow to get Arya from Harrenhal. She feels glad that she will finally get to see her wild little girl. She hopes that he knows what he is doing. Going into an enemy camp would be risky business. Was she going to be his hostage? That was one of her worse nightmares. If that was what she thought then why would she say to Jon “It should have been you,” when Bran was crippled? Saying something like that to a child, and he never said one bad thing to her? In fact, he never did anything to her so why did it have to be this way? He had complete control over the situation. That’s what she hated. Robb is no longer on her side. The boy has rendered her powerless.

In the background she hears soldiers. They have good morale. That’s good. What are they cheering? Did someone kill Jon Snow? Bad thoughts. Put that away. She resolved herself to go and find out.

She sees the Dornish Viper with a bandaged chest. Riding on a horse slowly with his spear in hand. As he’s riding by she sees soldiers clapping. She spots Jon and Robb together laughing and clapping as well. They look like they did when Ned was here. Happy, cheerful. It warms her heart. She looks closer at the spear and notices that it has blood on it and the tip is round. A round spear? The sunlight was blocking the view. The sunlight fades once he rides out of the direct view of the sun. Now she notices that there is a head on the spear. Looking more closely she can tell that it’s a large man’s head. Who’s head? Ser Gregor Clegane. The Mountain that Rides. This Mountain will ride no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that went well. Let me know in the comments if you did or didn't.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rude awakenings. Folks are free. Lions scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter. Hope you enjoy it.

Sansa Stark

She opens her eyes. A splitting headache. She’s on a bed. Who’s bed is this? Where am I? I’m dressed like a lady of the court…Who’s court? That’s right…she was just in Kings Landing. Where is she now? She looks around and sees the hound. He’s sitting upright, his back on the wall and he’s on the floor. Did he watch me sleep. She checks her clothes again. Nothing is ripped. He didn’t touch me then, she thinks.

“You’re dumb as fuck.” the Hound says.

“Mind your tongue.” Sansa says. The Hound laughs at her.

“What are you going to do? Annoy me to death? You’re getting close already, you little bitch.” the Hound retorts.

“Why did you take me with you?” Sansa asks. She knows now that he remembers as much as she does. He died in Kings Landing.

“Didn’t want to see you die in the capital…Like I did…”

“How are we here and now…?” She asks.

“That Red Woman came to see me, she told me that a Dragon is awake. He sends the Free Folk to the Reach to secure winter.” Sansa pales at this. Jon is planning something. What is he doing? The last raven she got from him from beyond the Wall said that she was not his sister. Damn, was his love that great for the Dragon Queen? What am I going to do?

“I hope you are not thinking of betraying someone.” The Hound says.

“She-“ Sansa says but is cut off.

“Saved my life” the Hound states.

“But she only-“ She is cut off again.

“Saved Winterfell and gave up half of her army for you dumb cunts?” The Hound says.

“She burned Kings Landing down.” She says.

“After Cersei killed that girl of hers.” Missandei, Sansa thinks.

“If she killed Arya right in front of you, what would you do?” He asks.

“I didn’t want to kneel to anyone.” Sansa deadpans.

“I saw you, kneeling to Robert Baratheon, he was a good fighter, but a terrible king. He wouldn’t give up half his army for Winterfell. You thought he was worth kneeling to, but not someone that saved many lives?” He says.

She doesn’t answer. She just looks out of the window. Unable to answer the question. As soon as her father was beheaded in Kings Landing, she wanted to kill everyone that was cheering. She’s an idiot. She manipulated things in her favor, and was she even a good Queen? Not really. She just thought she was entitled to the North. She had to use the Wildlings, and the Vale to even take the North. The Northerners killed Robb and Rickon. She wanted them to be free from what exactly? She can’t shake these thoughts…

“We are somewhere near the Riverlands.” the Hound says.

Robb may be near here somewhere, but where is Jon? Am I still his sister? He told her that Rhaenys was his sister. That hurt. It is true though. She did save him once. Did that count for something? Daenerys saved him multiple times, he told her. Shit. I can’t talk my way out of this one. I have no power. I must seek out Robb and ask his forgiveness. Hopefully Jon will forgive me one day…

Areo Hotah

“Ser Allister, tell me about these men that are coming to our shores.” Areo asks.

“They are…just men. They have an honor system and they protect their own. Just like the North, really.” Ser Allister responds.

“This…Aegon Targaryen, our new liege lord says to knock a few of them on their ass, otherwise they won’t respect us. Do you have any suggestions?” Areo asks.

“The Magnar of the Thenns. The Lord of Bones.” Allister says through gritted teeth.

“You are not fond of them then? Just obeying your liege lord?” He asks.

“I have respect for them. But they are savages in, prone to all sorts of violence. But if my King says it, then I won’t disobey. I did that once before.” Ser Allister responds.

“How did that go?” Areo asks.

“Badly, I killed him, thinking it was the right thing to do. Turns out he was the one that was right. He must have been because he came back from the dead and killed me. He now has the biggest army in Westeros.” Allister laments.

The ships pull up to Dorne, they have no sigils. Two men get off the ship first. He looks like a child that has just gotten a new toy. “Pretty country!” He says. “Mance, look at how pretty the trees are.” The other man is stern. He seems to be looking around, watching intently. This must be Mance Rayder, Areo thinks. He walks up to Areo and holds his hand out to take. He shakes Mance’s hand. “I have orders to let you through to the Reach. This way.” Mance nods. He stops, contemplating, and then speaks. “I also have orders to knock a few of your men on their asses.” Mance laughs. “Right you are. Whoever told you that was more right than you know.”

The Wildlings make their way through Dorne. But not before Areo Hotah says, “Which of you is the Magnar of the Thenns and the Lord of Bones?”

There is commotion. Sigorn Thenn and the Lord of Bones step forward. “The fuck you want with us?” they both say. “I need to test the mettle of you strength, I heard you can fight. Let’s see what you got.” They laugh. “I heard something about some men in fancy colors, we let our weapons do the talking.” They fight. Areo himself defeats both the Lord of Bones and Sigorn Thenn, after knocking them on their asses. Sigorn laughs, “I leave your people alone then, I was just thinking about how this cuntry look like one big bitch that I wanted to fuck.” He leaves and continues on with the rest of the Wildlings. In the distance, Areo sees children getting off the ships, one of them says “What’s this green stuff mama?” Pointing to grass. His heart aches for them…

Tywin Lannister

Kevan Lannister, Amory Lorch, and a few more generals are in the war tent with Tywin.

“We need to get to Harrenhal, my Lord. Jaime is in the Riverlands and we need to get him back. Tyrion seems to be as well.” Amory Lorch says.

Tywin is silently staring at Kevan. He nods.

“Robb Stark’s bastard brother has declared war on him. He only has about two thousand men. He has taken Tyrion and Robb’s mother hostage. He could use our help. Invite him to Harrenhal to treat with us. He doesn’t want to kill Robb and turn the whole North against him, let’s see if we can’t convince him shall we?” Tywin states.

The officers nod.

“Joffrey got ravens, Stannis is attacking the capital soon. Dorne has sent spears to the Riverlands to join Robb Stark. Joffrey got a raven from Robb saying that Joffrey is Jaime Lannister’s son, and that they have a confession from him. Ser Davos left Stannis and took his daughter. He’s using Pirates and Sellswords. He is weak. No one wants to help defend the capital though. We will have to spend a little more gold that originally thought.” Kevan says.

“Amory, head to Harrenhal and assess the situation. See what you think of this Jon Snow, and if you can convince him to join our side. I’ll be joining soon. A few last things to take care of here.”

“Yes, my lord.” The officers file out.

Kevan doesn’t leave.

He looks at Tywin contemplatively, then he speaks. “Nasty business, this is.”

“That was the same thing you said about the Rebellion. That turned out okay didn’t it.”

Kevan nods, there is silence. Finally, he speaks. “This…Aegon Targaryen…the reports say that that’s why Oberyn revolted against his brother. Do you believe the rumors? A male Targaryen.” Kevan scoffed. “He’ll kill us all.”

Tywin doesn’t say anything. He thinks for a moment. He answers, “He didn’t convince all of Dorne to move, so maybe he’s false. I don’t see any other houses declaring for him. If it were true, and he joined Oberyn with Robb, that’s only thirty eight thousand men for them to fight with. Not enough to take us, not enough to take the capital. Hopefully this Jon Snow will take some more of Robbs men. We’ll see who else’s cloaks we will turn, not enough to affect my coffers, I should hope.”

“The Reach? It would be a good idea to secure the harvest for the time when winter comes.” Kevan asks.

“The Tyrells have no love for the crown. With the questions about Joffrey’s legitimacy, then we will have a hard time convincing them. It’s a good thing that their armies are weak. They won’t be a bother.”

For now, we will form our alliances, and take my sons back. Then we will destroy Robb Stark and the North for daring to oppose us. Kevan just nods and goes to grab a glass of wine.

Olenna Tyrell

She is talking to Mace Tyrell about the harvest, and how much more they have than they need. They have enough to make it through three winters. Time to extort the high lords of Westeros, she thinks to herself.

A servant runs in and hands her a scroll. “A hundred thousand? What madness is this?”

She goes outside. She brings a few of her household guard and Mace Tyrell. There are two men walking up to Highgarden. One looks like a caveman. The other looks like an older man, Westerosi, but dressed in odd clothes.

“Who might you be?” Olenna says.

“Mance Rayder and Tormund Giantsbane. We are here to treat with you. We have things that the other could use.” The men behind him don’t look comforting. They look like they could kill someone in seconds. I suppose if they wanted to kill us, they would have attacked by now, she thinks to herself.

“What do you have that I want?” She asks Mance.

“Fighting men.” He responds.

“Your price?” She asks.

“Half of your harvest.” Mance says sternly.

“What it the name of the Gods…” Mace says, but Lady Tyrell silences him with the raising of her hand.

“One hundred thousand men?” She says.

“One hundred thousand fighters.” Mance says. Now that he mentions it, she did notice some women with weapons. They probably teach kids to fight. It’s all the same, protection is protection.

“What if I say no? What will you do?” She says.

“We have enough fighters to take your castles and people, without even breaking a sweat. We climb the Wall without many issues. Your castle walls will not be much of a problem. You can test us if you like. But your people can’t fight.” Mance says.

“Don’t I know it, you would have more problems fighting against actual roses.” She says with a slight laugh.

“What shall I call you and your people then?” Olenna asks.

“We don’t care what you call us. But to save face with your Lords, call us the sellsword company, the Free Folk.” Mance replies.

“Very well Mance Rayder. I don’t fancy being killed, but how do I know you won’t kill us all in our sleep? I do like my beauty sleep, you don’t get a pretty face like mine without it.” She retorts.

Mance laughs. He responds. “We will send some of our children to your Lords and Ladies and you will hold them, until you are assured of our trust. We don’t need gold, fancy clothes, or castles. We just want to survive winter.”

“What makes you so sure that you will not survive winter? You have enough men to just about conquer the world don’t you young man?” She says with a grin.

Mance stares right into her eyes. She is glad that the man is straight forward, but this look concerns her. Why after nearly securing half the food in Westeros does he still look desperate. This does not bode well. Mance gives a peculiar sounding whistle. A Giant comes forth with a box. “Oh Dear.” She says to Mance. “You have a siege weapon with legs.” The giant throws the crate on the ground.

The crate is twitching and shaking. “Dead” The giant says. What the hell is in this box?

After Mance gives another strange whistle, those two killer men she spotted open the crate. “Step back” they say. She does. A scrawny man runs out of the crate. He’s wearing torn rags. As she looks closer, there are cuts on his body. This is a corpse. How is this corpse moving? It is lunging at the men nearby. It’s caught by the chains. These men are from North of the wall. Who ferried them here? Why is this dead man moving? How did they find out about how much food she had? This is worrisome. The only consolation is that these men that could kill them all only asked for half of the harvest. They didn’t even want gold. She would make sure they got some anyway.

“I accept your terms Mance Rayder. See that you survive winter. See that we all do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little bit of setup for later. Hope it’s not too bad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon at Harrenhal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a little shorter. Hope you enjoy.

Jon Snow

Harrenhal is a large castle. It would be a great stronghold if not for Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaneys’ dragons. They burned this place when Harren the black was defiant. Nobody killed him for it, his mind says. They wrote songs about him. There are workers out here that look like slaves. They are being whipped, branded, scourged, and intimidated. I wonder if I have enough men to kill them all. He thinks. He’s searching out Arya. He doesn’t see her. He looks to lady Stark off in the distance with her hood on, concealing her features. She shakes her head at him. Where the hell is she?

A man comes up and speaks to him. “Names Polliver. You must be Jon Stark. I’m in charge here now that the Mountain is dead.” Damn right, Jon thinks. He sees the familiar looking pommel on Polliver’s sword belt. His eyes narrow and he gets dark thoughts. This one dies first. Polliver announces “ you can pick a few men from our...holding facility...” Shit camp. Jon thinks to himself. Jon nods to Polliver.

Jon is searching the camp and spots a strange cage in the middle of everything. He looks, but he sees three men that don't look familiar, or particularly sane. Seems like the kind of men he needs right now. The one that is calm, with red and blond hair speaks to him.

“A man sees a man before him, but when a man blinks his eyes, he sees a Dragon. He blinks his eyes and sees if there is something wrong with his eyes, then he sees a Wolf. A man must ask himself, what kind of man is this?”

Jon stares him in the eyes, “A king.”

The man nods. “If a man frees a man from his cage, he will owe a man his life. A man knows what a man is searching for.” He gestures for Jon to come closer. He does. He says to him, “there’s a tiny wolf here, I’ll show you.” Jon unsheathes Blackfyre, with the rubies removed so that it doesn’t look too fancy. He cuts the lock off of the cage. Men start shouting at him in the distance. “Don’t, those men are crazy” A soldier says to him. “Oh? You recruit fighting men from Septons then? You want a bunch of kitty cats in your army?” Jon retorts. The men laugh at this. “Fair enough,” the soldier says. He walks away.

The man gets out of the cage, with his companions. The man that he was speaking to shakes his hand and the other seems placated. The third man, however is scowling at him and appears to be searching for a weapon. Jon walks to him slowly. He looks at him in the eyes, intently and when the scowl doesn’t dissipate, Jon grabs his head and bangs it against the cage bar. “Nice to meet you, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” The man is unable to move. He is holding his head against the cage, with the bar pressing in to his face. “You may be bloodthirsty, but it is not yet time to act on that, if you fancy your life, I suggest you act wisely. I’ll let you know when it’s time. Understood?” The man calms down. Jon lets him go, his face is imprinted with the shape of the bar. He has their respect.

“A man is called Jaqen H’gar.”

“Follow me for a short time. When the time is right we’re going to fuck up some Lions. Then you go your own ways.” Jon says.The men look astonished, and then nod.

“Come, let me show you to the little wolf.” Jaqen says.

Arya Stark

Polliver.

She has a list but Polliver is at the top right now. He has Needle. He dies. The thought makes her smile, even surrounded by mud and shit, even malnourished and small, even powerless and hungry. In the distance she hears commotion.

“Arry, the orphan boy.” A soldier says.

Oh shit. Am I dead? She grabs a rock. I’m not going easily. I’m going to kill as many of them as i can before I go. But she sees dark hair and her heart nearly bursts. JON! She dreamt of this many nights. Nights when she cried herself to sleep and hadn’t eaten in a few days. Nights where she wanted to kill every lion that ever existed. Nights where she wanted to kill everyone In King’s Landing for not helping her father. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm...she reasons, you can’t show these lions your emotions. She can’t help the way her face is smiling though. They won’t notice will they?

She walks out of the cage. Left, right, left, right. Concentrating on her steps. Well not really, at this point her legs are just moving. She wants to tackle him to the ground. But she just lightly hugs him. “About damn time,” she says to him. He laughs. Then he regains his composure. “Your mother is outside the camp. South tent.” He says. Her eyes light up, but then the inner wolf returns. “I’m staying with you, got a life to take.”

Jon sighs, and then says “Of course you do.” Jon pauses and he looks confused. He turns and looks at the boy observing the situation, a strong boy. Holding a hammer like it’s a feather bed. He points at him after talking to a soldier.

“Gendry, the smiths apprentice.”

How does he know his name!?

Amory Lorch

Amory Lorch arrives at Harrenhal to treat with Jon Stark. He may be the key to winning this war. He thinks. If he gets more Northern houses, then they can turn the tide on the Young Wolf. He smiles at this.

He enters the meeting room with Polliver and Jon Stark.

“How many men do you have?” Amory asks Jon.

“Two thousand” he replies.

He looks behind Jon and sees a little boy. He pays it no mind. Just a squire.

Polliver is just sitting there looking like an idiot. Wrong person to put in charge, Amory thinks. He’s loyal so it’ll have to do.

“The Reach has secured a sellsword company called the free folk. The word is that they can fight and are very loyal. Don’t know how many men they have, but no one refuses Tywin. I will go and solicit them.” Jon and Polliver nod.

At this point Amory is wondering how to approach this Northman. He looks angry, almost as if he’s angry that he has to be in the same room as him. Well get used to it. The Lions run this bitch, he thinks fondly.A soldier comes running in. “My Lord, we’re being attacked!” Polliver moves, concerned. He’s confused as to why Jon Stark didn’t move in the slightest. Put that thought away, that’s not important.

“Who’s attacking?” Amory asks.

“The prisoners are revolting!” The solder says. Wait till Tywin gets here. He unsheathes his weapon and runs into the chaos.

Chaos.

Burning tents.

Soldiers being hanged.

“Fuck up the Lions!” Is being chanted by men in the distance. A wolf was howling, but isn’t that what they do? No matter.

The prisoners are escaping. All the better. I didn’t lose that many men, he thinks.

I’m a dead man unless I get these sellswords.Amory thinks. I got to get to The Reach. He flees with four men. I’ll get those sellswords for Lord Tywin. I brought lots of gold.

Gendry Waters

He had been slowly arming the prisoners to escape, biding his time. Arya came up with the idea.She’s a wild little thing. She wouldn’t want a bastard though, I hope we can still be friends. Her brother is a little intense, and how does he know my name? Gendry thinks. No matter. He hasn’t tried to kill me. Getting out of here is what matters. He gave me what I needed to escape. Polliver is dumb, he didn’t see what we were doing. Weird, I wonder where I will go after this. I can smith for someone, he thinks. The South tent. Arya’s brother said. Hopefully he doesn’t want to kill me.

A wolf howls in the distance. That’s the signal. “Fuck up some Lions!” He yells.

“Fuck up some Lions!” the men chant.

It’s time.

Polliver

His hand is shaking.

He’s afraid.

Prisoners are revolting. He’s a goner.

He picked on the little ones because he could. But he’s a coward. These men might skin him if he goes outside. The worst part is that he deserves it. The commotion quiets down. Breath of relief. The prisoners escaped. Good riddance. Tywin will have me killed, he thinks. But he’ll be long gone. Escape during the confusion. Yeah, good plan. I’m out of here as soon as I get my things in order. The door opens. Jon Stark is back with his squire. Jon doesn’t look at him at all but the squire doesn’t let him out of his sight. I know this squire don’t I? Maybe not...doesn’t matter.

The squire still looks at him intently. I know I have seen that face. Where...?

The squire scribbles on some paper with his left hand. A raven, maybe. Doesn’t matter. And soon as he stops looking at me, I’m leaving.

The squire walks up to him and hands him a scroll.

He opens it slowly after the squire walks away.

You killed my friend Lommy. You won’t leave this place alive. Even little wolves have claws.

The note worries him. He reads it again. Is this little squire threatening me? He laughs.

The squire now has a tiny and thin sword. Wait, isn’t that my sword? I took it from- A stab with the tiny sword in his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. Now my arm wont move. Fuck. Another stab in the shoulder. Other arm won’t move. Now I’m fucked. Was this the little boy I took this sword from? A stab in the knee. Damn. I’m screwed. Now the other knee. I can’t move at all. Now Jon Stark looks at me. He seems interested in the squire. Maybe they are brothers. They do look alike. I can only move my face at this point. The little boy comes closer and stuffs the note he just gave me in my mouth. Now I can’t talk. Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked with this little squire, Polliver thinks too late. That’s right. I pushed this sword through the neck of that little boy that hurt his leg. Now I remember. Well it’s too late for regrets. I can’t even beg for mercy, this letter is in my mouth...

The little squire smiles brightly as he puts the tiny sword through my neck...

I guess little wolves do have claws after...all...

I see nothing but red...then darkness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rather enjoyed writing that one...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting outside Harrenhal. The wildlings meet a Lord.

South Tent

The chaos at Harrenhal has died down.

Jon, Arya, Gendry, Catelyn, Jaqen, and Ghost are all in a tent. Jaqen isn’t much for meetings. He is only there to watch for enemies, he told Jon.

Arya and Catelyn are hugging fiercely and whispering to each other.

After they break apart, Catelyn grabs lots of food and sets it in front of Arya.

“Eat, young lady. You need to get your strength back.” Catelyn says. She notices the blood on Arya’s sword. She looks at it, and then Jon. He looks at her and then shakes his head. She seems to shrink back, but then she reasons, that’s why she has it, to protect herself. She doesn’t know how she feels about that.

“I have plenty of strength, mother.” Arya deadpans.

Gendry and Jon chuckle at this.

“You are?” Catelyn points at Gendry.

“Gendry Waters, mi lady.” He responds.

“Wrong.” Jon says.

Gendry, Catelyn and Arya stare at Jon questioningly.

“You never wondered why the Gold cloaks were after you?” Jon says.

“I was just trying to survive. Arya here saved me.” Gendry says.

Jon and Catelyn are staring at him now. He doesn’t like these looks.

“No he didn’t try anything with me.” Arya says.

Their looks soften, a little. Jon looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t immediately. He contemplates, with his broody nature, Arya thinks fondly. There is something different about him though…

“Gendry, you are Robert Baratheon’s bastard son.” Jon says.

Arya, Catelyn, and Gendry are perplexed.

Catelyn’s first instinct is to chastise him, but she thinks otherwise once she realizes Jon might have a problem with that. She doesn’t know what to do. She stays silent.

“You were wrong earlier, about your name. Your name is Gendry Baratheon, there is no one that matters that will tell you differently.” Jon says.

“You’re a king? So that’s why you are different…” Arya says.

“If you are a king, and what you say is true about my name, then i’d like to ask for your permission right here and now to marry Arya.” Gendry says to Jon.

Jon looks at Catelyn. She looks pale. He looks at Arya. She’s blushing, her face is as red as the blood on her Needle. Jon bursts out laughing.

“Of course you’d want to marry a bastard. To spite me.” Catelyn says. Jon just keeps laughing.

“You got a problem with that?” Arya says. She is looking her mother dead in the eyes.

Catelyn looks at her feet nervously. She looks back up and into Arya’s eyes. “Jon is my king. I follow his command.”

Arya is shocked into silence.

A screeching bird is heard circling around, just above the tent. Jon looks up and now he looks determined.

“It’s time for me to go.” Jon says.

“Where?” Arya asks.

“The Reach. Need to see some old friends.” He says with a dark look in his eyes. Catelyn realizes this is the same look he had when he mentioned the Mountain. She doesn’t question it and nods.

“Keep her safe yeah, Lady Stark?” She nods. “I approve of your marriage. But first, you two need to go to the Godswood, the nearest one is near the Inn at the Crossroads. Touch the tree and learn, let me know if you feel the same way.” Jon says.

The Reach

Karsi, Ygritte, and Val are walking together to go hunt. There is lots of food in the reach but they miss the thrill of hunting. Val has a spear, Ygritte has a bow and quiver full of arrows, Karsi has a sword. They are speaking when five soldiers walk up to them. They had just dismounted their horses.

“I tried that green stuff, I think they called it cabbage. It was great!” Karsi said.

Ygritte and Val just laugh softly. They had tried all sorts of new vegetables that they had never tried before.

“These high lords are so funny, I could kill them before they even tried anything on me, they are so weak and some of them are fat.” Val says before they all laugh.

The soldiers walk up closer to them. They glance over to the soldiers, and then go back to speaking to each other.

“I wiped me ass with this soft stuff. I think they called it Silk, or something. It was great. Mance says there’s a lot of it, but the high lords pay for it.” Ygritte shrugs.

A little girl runs up to them, she can’t be more than six name days old. “This bow is not working right, can you show me how to tie the string?” The girl says.

One of the soldiers gets fed up and starts speaking. “I need to speak to the commanding officer of this outfit, if it please, my lady.” They look at the soldiers again. They go back to talking.

“Take the string like so, and tie it around-“ Ygritte is saying, but the soldier speaks up again.

The soldier blurts out, “I said-“ Ygritte takes an arrow and instantly shoots the talkative soldier in the neck.

“Shut the fuck up. The little girl was talking.” Ygritte says. The soldier is laying on the ground twitching, he soon stops twitching. He’s dead. Amory realizes that he has been set up now. They were never going to get these people to join their ranks. Maybe escape would be an option, but to where? Harrenhal is compromised, and he’s surrounded by people he doesn’t know. No way to send a raven to Lord Tywin. What can I do in this situation? Don’t these people know who he is?

Amory finally puts it together. These are Wildlings. He knows nothing about them. He nods to a soldier. Maybe gold will help?

The soldier pulls out a gold coin and flips it to Val. She catches it and doesn’t look at it.

“Might you ladies show us who’s in charge here? We were sent here to negotiate.” The soldier says. Val flips the coin behind the soldiers. They turn around and a man they had not seen catches the coin. He is staring at the soldiers. He throws the coin on the ground and whips his cock out. He pisses on the coin. This makes the soldiers uneasy. “It doesn’t change colors when I piss on it.” He shrugs. “This is gold, Mance says. The high lords go crazy over this stuff. It’s mine now.” The wildling says. He takes the gold coin and puts it in a wagon full of coins. This negotiation is going nowhere. The soldiers turn back around when one of the girl speaks.

“You calling me a whore? You think I want your tiny cock for some gold coin, that it?” Val says.

The soldiers don’t know what to make of this.

Finally, it’s time for the commander to speak. He heard them say high lords. Maybe they have respect for his lordship?

“I am Lord Amory Lorch. I wish to speak to someone about fighting men, and if we can come to an arrangement.” The girls look at each other.

“It’s a fancy Lord!” Val says.

“It’s a fancy Lord!” Karsi says.

“It’s a fancy Lord!” Ygritte says.

They proceed to make strange poses. They look absurd, a half kneel, half curtsie? Why are they flailing their arms? Is this some sort of mockery? They then stop and laugh amongst themselves before one of them finally speaks.

“Amoree…Armor…Amory…this is the one Mance said to send up to Highgarden, yeah? The dragon rider wants this one.” Karsi said. Val and Ygritte nod.

Dragon rider!? That rumored Aegon Targaryen!? If they are allied with him, then I’m a dead man, he thinks to himself. What the hell has happened in the Reach?

Karsi whistles. Two men come from what seems like no where and take Amory Lorch by the arm. They don’t bother to search him or remove his weapons. The three soldiers look dumbfounded as their general is taken away. They don’t know what to do. Amory is heard saying “What about my men?”

Val takes her spear and throws it, impaling the soldier that threw her the coin. The two soldiers left take off running in the opposite direction. Cheering is heard. Where did all these other Wildlings come from? Amory thinks to himself.

“We got runners boys!” Ygritte says. She readies her bow. She launches an arrow right into the leg of one of the soldiers. He’s grabbed by two men. Again they don’t take his weapon. They are cheering loudly, like they just won a battle. Am I dead? Amory thinks. They catch the other running soldier easily and they are all led elsewhere…

They are in a circle of people now. The two soldiers look around and so does Amory. Two men just stare at them, seems like they are just checking for a reaction. Well they’ll get none from me. He mutters out, “What are you going to do to my men, what are your orders?” He knows these people are just soldiers following orders. Especially with the way the keep saying the name “Mance.”

A wildling whispers in his ear. “Our orders are the same that you got in the Red Keep. No survivors, no dragon spawn will live today.” What the fuck? Then he remembers that was his exact orders when he got to the Red Keep all those years ago. He killed a Targaryen child that day. He was just following orders right? He can talk his way out of this right?

As he leaves he hears more cheering. It sounds like they just won another battle. He turns around and sees one of his men with a puddle under him. “This one pissed himself, he’s mine!” he hears the Wildling say. What the hell kind of people are they? He thinks to himself.

He is led another distance, in the background more cheering. He hears a Wildling say “this one says he’s not goin ta say a fuckin’ word. This ones mine!” More cheering. It now gets quiet. He thinks he make out the sound of a man crying. He hears more cheering right after that. What is going on?

He’s led to a room. A nice room. He sees some strange looking men that look at him uninterested. His first instinct is to give them gold so they don’t kill him. But they have wagons full of gold, and don’t even care about it. What can I offer them?

One of them look like he’s about to bury his axe in his face. He realizes he still has his weapon. Maybe they are dumber than I thought? He smiles at that. They don’t say anything to him. They look him up and down as if they are measuring. Are they about to skin me? They’ll have to kill me first.

Suddenly another person appears. It’s Jon Stark.

“Thank you for not harming him boys.” Jon says. “You can leave now.” Jon has his back turned to him, looking out the window.

“You know them?” He asks.

“Aye.” says Jon.

“You brought them here didn’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Why not have them kill me?”

Jon turns around. He now notices the dragon sigil on his chest, and there is a direwolf sigil as well.

I’m dead.

This is Aegon Targaryen. He’s been seeking me out this whole time. How could he be a dragon? Stark...Wolf...Targaryen...Dragon...? Not unless...?

The two that ran away at the end of the rebellion...

That was ten and seven years ago...

The same age as this boy…his thoughts are interrupted by the Jon answering his question.

“I’m going to kill you myself. Oberyn got the Mountain. I get you.” Jon says.

I’m still a soldier. I won’t die so easy. Amory pulls out his sword.

Jon pulls out his sword. Is that Blackfyre? He tries to swing at Jon and he dodges easily. Before he can swing again, Jon takes his sword and cuts his own sword in two. This is Valyrian steel. There is nothing to be done now. This boy wants vengeance, and now he has it. He takes his sword and throws it down.

The boy stops. “I’d rather you die with weapon in hand. That’s more than you gave my sister, Rhaenys, isn’t it?”

Silence.

So he’s Rhaegars Son, with Lyanna Stark. Nobody knew. Probably hid away all this time.

This boy will kill him and there’s nothing to be done about it. He puts his blade away and grabs a dull rusted one. Why...? He is knocked out.

He wakes up on an executioners’ block. He can’t see anything but wildlings. They don’t even look at him.He finally sees Jon, with blade in hand. So that’s why the rusted blade, so that it will hurt. If he did this to me. What will he do to Lord Tywin? Doesn’t matter. He won’t live to see it. Do I get last words?Better not try my luck.

“Amory Lorch, you stand accused of murdering the three nameday old sister of mine. Rhaenys Targaryen, how do you plead?”

He’s tired of the guilt. He wants to demand a trial by combat, but it’s pointless. He resolves himself. “Guilty.” He says.

The wildlings start cheering.

“Well then Lord Amory Lorch. I sentence you to die. Any last words.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Jaehaerys”

“Smart moves. Word of advice, don’t lose.”

“If I lose to the likes of you, then I deserve to lose.” Jon says.

His head was hacked off. They would hear his screams throughout the Reach that day. That’s what he thought. But really he couldn’t hear himself over the Wildlings cheering.

“For Aegon and Rhaenys!” Jon says after he holds up Amory Lorch’s head. “One more head left for the dragon. Tywin Lannister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon was supposed to wait for longer to act. But the prisoners here sped up his desire for vengeance. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your comments and kind words!
> 
> Next chapter, the inn at the crossroads gets crowded.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inn at the crossroads gets visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a little slower. Got a bit of writers block with this one.

Beric Dondarrion

“He’ll be here Thoros. He may be already. We don’t really know what he looks like.” There are a few hooded figures in atttendance drinking their ale, and various drinks. Looks like the place to be in Seven Kingdoms.

So far he can make out the Hound and a red haired girl. Not who he’s looking for. He knows at least the person he’s looking for is a man. Something to do with a white wolf. Thoros said he saw such things in the fire. He hasn’t been wrong before.

Three people walk in, he doesn’t recognize them. They sit and order food.

“Arry” a heavier boy says.

“Hot pie!” the little girl says.

They start conversing and the other boy joins in. They must be old friends. The other person is hooded. Now he knows who she is. This is Lady Catelyn Stark. The little girl must be Arya, the one that was missing. Before he can speak to her the Red haired girl is straight to her feet running over to her. The Hound follows.

“Mother!”

“Sansa, I’m so glad to see you. You look well. How did you get out?” Catelyn says. Sansa glances over to the Hound. He nods.

“Thank you for returning Sansa to her family, Ser Clegane.” She says.

Arya runs up and hugs her. “You’re different too, just like Jon was…”

Sansa pales at this. “You saw him?”

“He saved me from Harrenhal.” Arya says.

“How was he?” Sansa asks.

“Different…but good. Mother says that he’s her king. She won’t admit it, but she can’t stand it. It’s weird to see.” Arya says.

“You don’t remember then. You need to go to the Godswood.” Sansa says.

“I’ll escort you, my lady.” Beric says. Sansa and the Hound look at each other.

“He’s alright.” the Hound says.

“You aren’t” Arya replies to the Hound. The Hound laughs at this. “I had forgot how wild you were, you are just as much of a wolf as that brother of yours.”

“You know him?” Arya asks.

“Go to the tree, girl, take Beric and Gendry with you.” the Hound states. Sansa nods to her. They make their way outside. Sansa goes to sit with her mother.

Sansa

“I’m sorry that you turned out like me…I seem to ruin everything…” her mother says solemnly. Sansa doesn’t immediately say anything. She looks to her feet and around to see who is listening.

“I ruined Jon’s life…” Sansa laments.

“He told me to tell you that you can be his sister again one day…That you had to learn from your mistakes, and that if you did you may one day be his sister again…” Catelyn says.

Sansa nods.

“What…did you do?” Her mother asks.

“I pitted him against the woman he loves, just after she saved Winterfell. I didn’t trust her.” She says.

“Did she threaten you?” Mother asks.

“No.” She replies.

“What was the problem?” Mother asks.

“She had too much power, I thought she wanted to subjugate everyone and that if we disagreed with her we would all die. I never respected her, even when I saw here on the dragon, burning the dead men and risking her life for people that she just met. I thought I was being smart and witty, but I’m an idiot.” She says teary-eyed.

“So another dragon rider then? I don’t know what to think about that…” her mother says.

Her mother puts her hand on top of hers.

“I became Queen in the North…” she tells her mother with tears in her eyes. “I thought I was doing right with my family, but I just wanted power, I had really just pushed my family away.”

“The bad part is that I didn’t even feel anything. I didn’t even feel anything when Rickon died and I saw his body. Jon charged the whole Bolton army alone, while I just sat back and watched. He didn’t even know I had the Vale. I lied to him.” She tells her mother.

“How did you betray him after the battle with the dead?” her mother asks.

“I can’t tell you. Only Jon can tell you.” She says.

Her mother nods. “They seem to be afraid of him. I guess it’s for good reason.”

“Who?” She asks.

“Lord Royce, Brienne, and Ser Jaime. He even cut off Ser Jaime’s hand. It was for good reason though” mother says.

“What do you think of Jon?” she asks.

“At first…I was confused…I couldn’t tell what his motivations were. I know he loves Robb and Arya and that feels great. But he’s got Dorne on his side, and now the Vale, he’s got the Wildlings too. He’s the most powerful man in Westeros and I don’t know what he really wants. It seems like he’s only killing people that harmed him. But the Mountain, and now Amory Lorch, and it seems like he wants Tywin next. But I don’t see where they did anything to him. Do you know something?” Her mother asks.

“I can’t tell you.” She says again.

“He doesn’t trust us.” her mother says.

Sansa shakes her head. “He’s right to. You made him feel worthless. I made him feel used. The moment I could, I used him to further my own…stupidity really…in the end, I wasn’t even a good queen. I thought I could do better that Daenerys, but I was out of my depth. We lost so many fighting men and I still had ties to the Riverlands and the Vale but I became isolated in the north. The North became weak and I let it happen. I failed, betrayed my family for nothing.”

“It’s good that Jon is willing to forgive. Otherwise we might have to live out our days in the Riverlands. They might be the only ones that will have us if we earn his ire. Let’s not do that okay?” Mother says.

“Now we have a few enemies still alive. Let’s see if we can unburden them of their worthless lives.” She says to her mother. Her mother looks at her with apprehension, then admiration, then confusion. Lady Stark is wondering how her little sweet girl became tough as steel, similar to Arya. She won’t ask in front of all these people though, so she stays silent. She doesn’t recognize her own children. The thoughts threaten to consume her...a hooded figure walks up to her. As the figure gets closer, she can make up the faint smell of expensive perfume.

“What enemies would those be my Stark ladies? I do hope I’m not one of them.” The figure states. He removes his hood, and reveals his face. It’s Varys.

Varys

Deception. He brings life to the phrase “what a tangled web we weave, when we aspire to deceive.”

He smiles at the two Stark ladies. They don’t know what to make of him.

“I came to report to our king” he tells them.

“What do you have to say?” Sansa asks.

“The King’s ears only, I’m afraid, he doesn’t trust you, you said so yourself.” He responds.

“You have reports of Boltons and Freys at least?” Sansa asks.

Varys doesn’t immediately answer. He stays silent for a bit and then nods.

“I will report once the king joins us. Something is amiss.”

“You remember serving a queen at all?” Sansa asks. She seems to be scrutinizing him at this point.

“No queens for me. I chose the bastard king, that put wildlings in the Reach, showing children how to live when they otherwise might not. They are too happy for me to even recruit them as my little birds. That’s all I ever wanted.”

Suddenly he feels a sword tip on his back. He can’t remember the last time someone snuck up on him. Who could this be?

“No false moves or this sword goes right through your heart.” A voice says quietly. This person could silently kill him and sneak out with out being seen. Has the capital sent cutthroats after him? No, I’m better than that, he thinks. This is something else.

“Arya, stop that. He hasn’t done anything.” Sansa says.

The little Stark girl? She can sneak up on me? I’ve been undone by a little girl.

The blade leaves his back.

“Why are you here Spider?” Arya asks.

“Reports for the King. I see he has made a merry band of friends.”

“What do you think you know?” Sansa asks.

“I am the spymaster, you know, I have eyes and ears everywhere. The little birds I have led me here. I thought I might find a King.” He says.

“You don’t find a King, a King finds you.” A hooded figure says. It’s a woman’s voice.

This makes them all uneasy. No one recognizes the voice, except Arya. She is stoic.

“Red Woman.” Arya deadpans.

“I’m here for the same reasons as the Spider here.” She says.

Ghost howls outside.

“The king is here.” Melisandre says.

“Best let me handle this. You lot may yet lose your heads. He has changed.” Arya says.

Catelyn, who has been silently observing the entire time, looks beside herself. This Jon Snow has the whole of Westeros coming to his side, she believes. She doesn’t know how to proceed in this situation, especially since they are in the Riverlands. This is supposed to be her territory. Has he conquered that too? She thinks bitterly.

Ghost trots into the inn. He sniffs around. He lingers on Sansa and Arya. He looks at Varys and Melisandre suspiciously. He heads up the stairs. There is more to this wolf than meets the eye, Varys thinks.

Arya follows Ghost. She says for the rest of them to stay back.

Jon

“You remember then?” Jon says.

Arya nods.

“Well, what are your plans now? Will you treat Talisa the same way you treated Daenerys?” Jon says with narrowed eyes.

Arya looks at her feet nervously.

“I’m sorry…” Arya says.

“Sorry… you’re only sorry if you wouldn’t do it again if given the opportunity. My heart was torn in two, and I chose…really I chose you…not really Sansa…I didn’t know you were such a killer yourself.” Jon says.

Arya doesn’t answer.

“You want to make it up to me?” Jon says.

Arya’s face lights up at the notion of forgiveness. She nods.

“Take Jaqen to Essos. Kill Kraznys and teach Missandei, Irri, and Daenerys the blade. I have gold I can give you.” Jon says.

Arya contemplates. Then she answers. “I’ll take Gendry with me. I will marry him once I come of age, but for now he will be my travel companion. We are already used to each other.”

Jon throws Arya a vial. It’s blood. She looks at him curiously.

“When Jaqen is done. He will go to Braavos. I have a feeling you know why already.” Arya nods. “Gendry will take steel with him, apparently with dragon fire, dragonglass, and Valyrian blood, you can make Valyrian steel. Should be enough for a few weapons.”

“I wear other peoples faces…I killed the Freys…” Arya says softly.

“Of course you did.” Jon says.

“Let’s not blame each other. I love you and always will, no one blames a wolf when they rip someone’s throat out. Don’t blame a dragon for being a dragon. You will see it done?” Jon says.

“Your grace.” Arya says mockingly.

“Don’t you start that.” Jon says with a grin.

“I love you.” Arya says.

“I love you as well.” Jon says.

They hug fiercely. Ghost runs up and licks her face.

“Nymeria is…nearby…she will probably come with you…I had seen her when I was dreaming…” Jon says.

Arya’s face lights up. “I thought so. I wondered if it was Ghost’s presence or not.”

“Goodbye for now. Bring her back to me. That’s all I ask.” Jon says.

“And for me to kill a few people.” Arya retorts.

“Well that’s the only thing I ask of that would be difficult for you.” Jon replies.

“Right you are.” Arya says.

“What will you do with Sansa…?” She asks.

“She will hunt down the Boltons and Freys, I’m having Tyrion pretend to be Tywin so that we can coax them into action.” Jon says with a smile.

“Damn, you’re good at this.” Arya says.

Jon broods silently. She is happy that there are at least glimpses of her brother that she remembers. “She was good at this” He says. Arya doesn’t answer. She looks him in the eyes and sees all kinds of sadness. She hates that.

“Anything else?” Jon asks.

“Shall I send you a raven?” Arya asks.

“I can see through Rhaegal, the green dragon…” Jon says.

“Of course you can, dragons are smarter than men, I heard a story like that.” Arya says.

“Time to go.” Jon says.

“Until we see each other again. Keep her safe. And stop the Sons of the Harpy from killing Ser Barristan Selmy.”

“Valar Morghulis” Arya says and then starts to leave.

“Send me Varys.” Jon says. Arya nods on her way out.

Jon contemplates how to handle Varys. He doesn’t trust him, but he does want an update in the capital. Decisions..decisions…

Ghost starts growling.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Jon Snow, or is it Stark now?” Varys says.

“You have something to say to me?” Jon says.

“Not one for small talk then? Fair enough. Tywin has been spooked back to the capital. Your stunt in Harrenhal was a little too impulsive to catch him off guard. He’s using the Lannister army to reinforce the capital. They are hoping that the castle walls will protect them from Stannis.” Varys updates.

“Good.” Jon says. Varys just smiles curiously.

“You mean to take the capital?” Varys asks.

“That’s none of your concern. What does concern you is this, would you support me, even as a bastard?” Jon asks.

“With the backing of the Wildlings and the North, you can do anything you wish. Yes, I would conspire to put the first bastard on the Iron Throne.” Varys states.

“Maybe I will let you keep your head for now then. One question, what news of dragons across the narrow sea?” Jon says blankly.

“You’re a tricky one, do you fear the dragon?” Varys asks.

“No, but you should.” Jon says with a smile.

Varys doesn’t know what to make of this.

“What kind of fool would not be afraid of three dragons?” Varys says. Ghost immediately knocks him on his back and pins him to the ground. His teeth are showing and are right near Varys’ face.

“The moment you think that you are doing the realm a great service, and you think poison will serve the realm. Your life is forfeit. Your web rings false, your lies can be sniffed out by wolves and dragons alike. You are only alive because you have no love for the Lannisters. Remember that well.” Jon states. “Ghost.” he says. Ghost gets off of him and trots back to his original spot.

“Now one think I ask of you, Spider.” He says.

“What would that be?” Varys replies.

“Bring Robb Stark Petyr Baelish along with Ned Stark’s bones. Do that and you may yet keep your head.” He says.

“I shall see it done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that one came out okay. Let me know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets with the brotherhood. Check in on the capital.

Thoros of Myr

Thoros, Beric, and Melisandre are standing outside conversing.

“You’re saying that he knows more than we’ve seen in the flames?” He says to the Red Woman.

“You’re here aren’t you? The flames led you to him right? He killed the Mountain. He’s the reason you are safe.” Lady Melisandre says.

“You left Stannis?” He asks.

“I was never really with Stannis. The flames showed me another way. At the time, I believed it was Stannis that the flames were showing me. Since he was anointed the one true king when we learned that Joffrey is a pretender.” She says.

Thoros takes another drink of rum at this.

“What do you think Beric?” He has been a bit different since he went with the other two young ones outside.

“What the lady says is true. He’s special for sure. He led us beyond the wall. He has a direwolf and I saw him riding a dragon. It seems that everywhere he goes, he has someone willing to follow him. I will go where he does.” Beric says.

“You didn’t know what he looked like before, and now you say you know him? Interesting…” Am I drunk? Thoros thinks.

“The Weirwood tree works in accordance with the Lord of Light I suspect. Strange business, but he speaks in ways we don’t yet understand. I’ll bring you up to speed.” Beric says.

Jon Snow and his white direwolf approach them. Sansa and Lady Catelyn, followed by the Hound approach behind him. He reaches out his hand. Thoros and Beric shake his hand. Jon looks at Melisandre’s necklace for a short time. This makes her shrink back. Does he know more than he’s telling us? Thoros thinks.

“Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion. I would form an alliance with the Brotherhood without Banners.” Jon says.

“What do you want from us?” Thoros says.

“I’d like you to pay a visit to the Twins, I’ve sent some ravens to Walder Frey pretending to be Tywin Lannister, he means to betray the North and the Riverlands to become the liege lord of the twins and Riverrun.” Jon says. He glances at Lady Stark and she looks on with anger, if that were to happen, all the Tullys would have to be killed or captured.

“We don’t have that many men.” Thoros says.

“That won’t be a problem. We can give you Northmen, men from the Vale, and Wildlings. You are familiar with them Beric?” Jon asks.

“Right you are, they were some of the best men you could ask for.” Beric replies.

“Capture Walder Frey and either Black Walder or Lame Lothar, I don’t need both of them. Bring them to Robb’s camp.” Jon says.

“Aye” Thoros says.

“Aye” Beric says.

“Where will you go?” Melisandre says.

“The Iron Bank.” Jon says.

No one says anything in response, they have long since stopped questioning him.

“The Lord of Light will guide us.” Beric says.

“Rum will guide me.” Thoros says. Beric and Melisandre smile at Thoros.

Jon nods.

“Melisandre. Go back to Dragonstone. Take some men and mine the Dragonglass. Start sending it to the Reach, and to the North. I’ll take what’s left over. Also, convince Stannis to capture Joffrey.”

Melisandre contemplates this for a time. Then she replies, “That old man, that Maester, he looks at me like he sees through me. You sent him?”

Jon nods. “Now you know what it feels like to be around you. No one likes the taste of their own medicine.”

“I will do as you say Jon Snow. Why do you want Joffrey?” She asks.

Jon glances over to Catelyn and Sansa.

“I need to see with my own eyes that which I never should become.” Jon says.

Sansa walks over to him. They hadn’t really spoken.

“I want to say I’m sorry-“

“Save it.” Jon says.

She resolves herself and walks up to him, giving him a fierce hug.

“I...want to be your sister.” She says.

“I...” he looks at Lady Stark. She looks away when she sees him watching. “I think, you better work on not calling Talisa a foreign whore, are you going to tell her that she’s not one of us?” he says. She turns away from him.

“Good point. She is our sister. You are a wise king.” Sansa says.

“Let’s work on getting the Boltons and Freys, shall we? I’m not sure I’m up for your horseshit.” Jon says.

“Let’s go speak to Robb.” Jon says.

“Jon, I need to tell you something. Walk with me.” Sansa says.

Jon searches her face and then nods. Lady Stark follows close behind.

Catelyn

She had gotten a raven from Petyr.

He was spreading tales of an Aegon Targaryen, slowly conquering Westeros. Starting at Dorne, allied with Wildlings. This must be who Jon Snow is backing. Wait, didn’t they say Jon Snow rode a dragon? How old is the boy? Ten and seven... That was when the rebellion ended. Rhaegar had just been killed by Robert. But he ran off with...wait...I don’t know who this boys mother is. Ned never said that he was his son...he said he was blood. He has to be...Two dragon riders...The woman he loved...it has to be. Why hide it? That’s right, they were killing the other Targaryen children...they say that the Mountain...and Amory Lorch did terrible things...Tywin’s orders. That’s what his motivation is. His siblings. She wants to cry at that.No one deserves that. She treated him terribly, she should be afraid. I should be afraid of the Wildlings, but the woman Osha has protected her little Rickon all this time, she thinks. As did the boy she hated all this time. There are a hundred thousand of them. And they follow this...King. She feels like a failure.

Sansa and Jon are conversing. “I sent Robb a raven telling him to come to Kings Landing and swear fealty to Joffrey. After father was imprisoned. I want you to know before you hear it elsewhere.” Sansa says.

Jon turns away from her. “What the hell, Sansa?” 

“I was stupid. I was loyal to the wrong person.” She says.

“You haven’t convinced me that you aren’t stupid still.” Jon says.

There is silence, Sansa is at a loss for words.

“Are you a Targaryen?” Catelyn asks.

“Not now!” Jon and Sansa say together.

“I’m sending the Brotherhood to the twins to capture Walder Frey. I sent him ravens via Tyrion, pretending to be Tywin. We have proof of his betrayal. Roose will be a little more tricky. Ramsay has Theon, but he hasn’t...you know...”

Sansa nods.

“Are you going to fuck up Ramsay’s world?” Jon asks.

She is now resolved.

“Absolutely” Sansa says.

"Show him that Lady wolves have claws then.” Jon says with a slight grin.

“Are you Aegon Targaryen?” Catelyn says.

“Not now!” Jon and Sansa say.

She is shocked to see them working together.

Jon pulls out a map of the North. He is mapping out the area around the Dreadfort.

“Now, so far as I know. Ramsay’s hunting grounds are here, and here.”He says pointing to areas on the map.

“You know, if you had only asked, you and Daenerys could have burned down the Dreadfort together, but you chose to be a pretentious bitch. That’s unfortunate for you. Anyway, like I told Arya, if you don’t blame a wolf for being a wolf, then don’t blame a dragon. Deal?” He holds out his hand for her to shake. She slaps it out of they way and hugs him. He laughs.

“Forgive me. Your grace.” She bends down on one knee.

Catelyn is shocked into silence.

“You have a ways to go. Maybe we’ll talk after me, you, Arya, and Robb watch Joffrey die. I’ll have you know, I’m considering throwing him from the top of the Wall.” Jon says with a smile.

“That would be glorious.” Sansa says.

“Get up, I have not yet a crown.” Jon says.

Sansa nods.

“Mother.” She looks up at this. “What you suspect is true. But if you say a fucking word, Jon will kill you and I will not stop him.”

Jon covers his mouth with his hand and lets out a fake gasp. “Sansa Stark.”

Joffrey

No ravens that are coming are good news.

The sellswords in the Reach send back heads when he tries to negotiate with them. The whole capital is blind to the rest of Westeros. Not that he cares. What he does care about is the citizens starting to revolt. One of them even had the nerve to question where the food was. What is the cure for this affliction?

“Public executions!” He says to the small council.

His mother looks on with disapproval, but she dare not voice them.

Petyr gives one of his usual half smiles.

Tywin doesn’t move in the slightest, no doubt a lecture is coming.

Varys is stoic, need to watch that one, he thinks.

Pycelle, as usual is blithering like an idiot.

“Your grace, I must say that it’s improper tact to...do such a thing publicly. While the Kingdoms are in chaos and you-“

“I what?” Joffrey says.

Pycelle stops. He waits before answering, “there are questions a your legitimacy, with Ser Jaime being captured...”

“Lies, all of it!” Cersei says.

“It matters not, if there are enough kingdoms that believe it.” Tywin says.

“Then kill them all until no one dares to question-“ Joffrey is cut off by Tywin.

“I don’t know if you noticed. But you are losing. Robb Stark has more men than when he started. His bastard brother declared war on him and then promptly lost Harrenhal to the prisoners. Amory Lorch is dead. The Reach’s sellswords saw to that. We’ll get no help from them. The Vale is lost, Lysa Arryn is dead and Lord Royce is in command until young Robin Arryn comes of age. Another dead end. We need allies. If you start hanging them and beheading them in public, who will join your ranks? Fear is good, but you inspire no one. The only one that loves you is your idiot mother, because she’s too stupid to tell you otherwise.” Tywin says to Joffrey.

“What do you suggest?” Joffrey asks.

“That you use your damn brain and stop acting like a fool. Kings tend to think they are gods right up until someone relieves them of their head. Every king before you was killed. You think you are different?” He grabs him by the collar. “You give the family a bad name with your stupidity.”

“What will you do grandfather?” Joffrey asks.

“I will enlist the golden company. At least they listen to gold. Short of someone finding the sword Blackfyre, they will stay loyal. Dorne might help, but I need to stay here and help defend against Stannis.” Tywin says.

“Joffrey if you have any backbone whatsoever, you will take sword in hand, and show the people what a king is. Can you do that or shall I call you my granddaughter?” Tywin says. Joffrey nods. Cersei looks livid.

“What news spymasters? You had best have something if you don’t fancy your heads on spikes.” Tywin states.

Varys starts.

“Jon Stark inspired the prisoners at Harrenhal to revolt. Amory Lorch had left to go recruit sellswords. They killed him. Jon Stark has played you. He was never going to join you, in fact he was just testing your defenses. I have another report, that one of Robert’s bastards lives…I don’t know his name yet and I am looking for that information still. I will report once I have more information, my lord.”

“If only Joffrey had as much wit as these two Stark children…They will kill you if you are not careful.” Tywin says.

Littlefinger interjects.

“My Lord, I have much to report. The so-called Aegon Targaryen has made friend of the sellswords in the Reach. They don’t follow him but I have reports that they are his friend. I also hear rumors that they are no sellswords, but Wildlings from beyond the Wall. I don’t know anything about the people north of the Wall and if that’s true, then they are more dangerous than we can ever imagine. ” Littlefinger eyes Varys. “I also have reports that Robb Stark asks for myself to bring Ned Stark’s bones along with the Stark ancestral sword Ice, in exchange for Tyrion, no other exchanges will be made at this time. What do you say my lord?”

“Do it. Report on what you find. Use your relationship with Catelyn Stark to find out more information about what’s going on in the Kingdoms. They are starting to slip from our fingers.” Tywin says. Wildlings, in the Reach? Who could have done this? They could take the capital if they wanted. That would also explain why they didn’t take the gold. They have no need of it. Just food, which the Reach has in abundance. This is a master stroke, and I found out about it too late, Tywin reasons.

“As you wish, my lord I shall travel north with the items requested.” Petyr says.

Stannis

“Capture Joffrey…that could work. I would need to clear out Dragonstone and make for the Stormlands.”

“Your fire burns bright. Take to the Seas and get what belongs to you.” Melisandre says.

Stannis turns to his generals.

“Let’s go and take this crown from the pretender…”

“The flames of war have been ignited. Follow me and we will be victorious! The pretender Joffrey is just fuel for the flames of the Lord of Light! He burns all false kings and nonbelievers to nothing. We are the chosen, the bringers of destruction to those who refuse the Lord’s call! Come and let’s take King’s Landing, crowning a new King!”

Cheers are heard all throughout Dragonstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with this chapter. Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle at King’s Landing. Jon visits the Iron Bank.

Lancel Lannister

The bells are ringing.

Battle is imminent.

Fear is the major feeling, but the king is with us, that adds to our resolve, he thinks.

“Stannis wears a burning heart on his banner, I say we eat his heart! I named my sword Hearteater for just this reason.” Joffrey yells.

The men hooray at this.

Ships are spotted on the Blackwater bay. It’s time. Burning oil and pitch barrels are thrown at the ships along with burning arrows. The smell of burning pitch permeates the air. It’s suffocating. It’s adds to the melancholy of the situation. Some ships are set ablaze, but there are a few making it through.

Time to defend the city.

Strange sight. Stags versus crowned stags and lions. Enough Stormlanders believe the rumors of Jamie fathering Joffrey to make a difference. This will be a battle for the ages.

Ladders are put up on the walls. Followed by Stag-bannered shields. Arrows are launched at the shields. Men are climbing the ladders and are quickly replaced after a few of them are shot full of arrows. “Defend the Gate!” is heard. They are there too? These are bad tidings. Will we call this call this Stannis’ Rebellion after it’s over? The thought is heavy. No time to be weighed down by these thoughts, we have a king to defend.

The soldiers come forth. More men than he would like to see. They knew our defenses well, but uncle Tywin is brilliant. We will beat them back. He cuts down a few men that look to be sneaking around their shield wall. He looks back and sees Joffrey giving orders. Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Mandon Moore are with him. Good, keep him safe men. No one has yet spotted Stannis, he will turn up eventually. More soldiers come forward. Arrows are still flying back and forth. I’m not going out in that, Lancel thinks. I am timid by nature, but not when it comes to my family. Two soldiers surround him. He dodges their advances. One them cuts him on the arm. It’s not deep. He stabs them in the throat. The other one tries to jump on him at the same time.Suddenly a sword goes through his throat. Sir Mandon is his savior. They nod to each other. Joffrey must be near. Too close to all the action, he thinks. “Get back, your grace!” He tells Joffrey. “I must show these men what a king is.” Joffrey says. He’s not wrong, I just hope he doesn’t get cut down, he thinks.

Suddenly he hears chants of “Lightbringer!” from the stag banners.

Stannis enters the fray. He wears Stag armor, but he has a few red accents on the armor, one with the pattern of flames. He’s trying to look like a king. Well, Westeros has one king, and it’s not you. He is flanked by ten men. Lannister men are going to engage. A fierce battle ensues. Lannister men are cutting down some of Stannis’ personal guard. A few of the Lion-clad soldiers are struck down themselves. The outcome of this battle is not clear. The Baratheon soldiers have made it over the walls and they are rushing in to gain more ground in the capital.Bad time to be a coward. He wants to protect the king, but those men are gaining ground. He grabs a few soldiers to head towards the are where the enemy is gaining ground. They are tough. The soldiers advance on them but he is young and fast and dodges their strikes.Dry bad time to be a coward, he thinks. What it is Uncle Tywin doing?

At that thought, he hears “Hear me Roar!” In the background, a fresh wave of Lannister soldiers has come to back them up. Thats more like it. He is unable to spot Joffrey. Where is he? He looks around for a short while and spots Stannis and Joffrey doing battle. Joffrey is swinging wildly, unable to hit Stannis. Stannis seems to be biding his time. The lions are coming for you, pretended Stag king. The thought makes him smile.

An explosion from a Baratheon ship sends flaming debris into their area. It makes the entire area blazing hot. The rest of the men seem undeterred by this so he decides he will be too.

Joffrey takes this opportunity to knock Stannis down with a leg sweep and tries to stab Stannis in the heart. He should have gone for a non armored spot, he thinks. The sword gets stuck in Stannis’ armor. Stannis swings his sword for Joffrey’s sword hand and the king just lets the sword go. Stannis doesn’t bother to pull the sword out. Stannis looks around and surveys the situation. He quickly gets up and grabs Joffrey’s sword arm, twisting and breaking it. Joffrey screams and he finally spots uncle Tywin. He is walking toward Stannis but he grabs the King and starts to retreat. “Fall back, men. We have what we came for.” Stannis says. Archers take aim at Stannis, but Uncle Tywin holds his hand up to stop them. Don’t want to hit the King. Stannis mounts a horse with Joffrey and the last remaining Soldier of his personal guard. The horse takes off, but not before Stannis removes Joffrey’s crown and throws it to Tywin.

No one says a word for a long while....

Tycho Nestoris

“Welcome to the Iron Bank” he says.

“Ser Davos Seaworth and Jon Snow.” The older man states.

“A northern bastard and a former smuggler...where did you find each other?” He asks.

“A brothel.” Jon says. He smiles at this.

“What can I do for you fine lads? There are no whores here.” He asks them.

“Then your services are free? I have it on good authority that you take Gold.” Jon says.

His smile stays. He’s waiting for an offer. Who is this person to frat with the Iron Bank so casually?

“Right, I wish to procure services from the Iron Bank on behalf of Aegon Targaryen. I was sent here to negotiate with you.” Jon says.

“Negotiate you shall. But what do you want from the Iron Bank of Braavos? We haven’t heard of any substantiated claims of Targaryens in Westeros, only rumors. The Iron Bank cannot put stock in hearsay.” He says.

“What proof do you need?” Ser Davos says.

“The proof that someone can control dragons, silver hair, violet eyes, documents of lineage from credible sources. Solid gold proof, so to speak.” He says.

Davos and Jon look at each other. Jon nods to him. “I will have what you ask by the end of this visit.”

“Very well, without proof I shall support no one called Aegon Targaryen, is there perhaps something that Jon Snow wants in the meantime?” He asks.

Jon nods to Ser Davos. He heads outside.

Jon opens a box full of black rocks in all sorts of odd shapes and places it on his desk. One dagger is made of the material. He looks at it curiously.

“What is this?” He asks.

“Dragonglass.” Jon replies.

“I have heard of such a thing, but I’m not aware of it’s value. What would I want with such a material?” He asks.

Ser Davos returns with a large box. He takes an iron bar and uses it to pry open the box. Two men(?) come running out of the box like rabid dogs. The smell is foul and the men are clearly dead. They don’t have skin in some places and their flesh is peeling off of their undead bodies. However they seem to be repeatedly trying to pull against the chains that bind them to the crate. A moving dead man? What am I seeing right now? He thinks.

Jon takes a normal dagger and stabs on. It doesn’t flinch. Then he grabs the Dragonglass dagger and stabs the creature. It squeals and shrieks and then stops moving. Is it dead? It appears so. It’s bright blue eyes have dimmed to nothing.

“You have my attention.” He says to Jon.

“I will give you this Dragonglass that I brought. When you receive reports of dead men in Westeros you will sell it to the asking parties for a hefty sum, especially certain houses with whom I’m sure you are acquainted. I already have as much as I need. I’m sure you are familiar with this practice.” Jon says with a smile.

“Indeed we are. You are offering me information, a means for a great profit, do you have conditions?” He asks.

“I do have a few conditions, yes.” Jon says.

“What are your conditions?” He asks.

“First you will you will support Aegon Targaryen, when the need arises you will support him with whatever ships you are asked for, and when Daenerys Targaryen wants to end slavery in Essos, you will extend help to her in the form of sellswords and mercenaries that will enforce the ending of that dreadful practice.”

“Oh, that’s all? Would you like a place in the Iron Bank as well? Shall I sign over the Iron Bank and all its holdings over as well?” He retorts.

“Aegon Targaryen will also have gold to give you in support of this. He has the Reach...” Jon says.

“Without proof I cannot-“

“You will have it, I said. I am a man of my word.” Jon cuts him off.

“He speaks true,” Ser Davos says.

“Your other conditions ?” he asks.

”Cease all support of Tywin Lannister. Except, he can have the Golden Company.” Jon smiles as he shows his sword. He shows no reaction.

“If Aegon Targaryen wants these things. Why couldn’t he come here himself? Where is he to prove his identity?” He asks seriously.

A green dragon comes flying in. The dragon is following the boys commands. Impossible...unless...

“You are looking at him.”

Robb

“Stannis captured Joffrey” he says.

Cheers are heard throughout the northern camp.

Jon is going to be my king, he thinks. It sounds a little weird, but he gave him what he needed to win the war.

“I bet the little shit is pissing his breeches!” Greatjon Umber says with his booming voice. The northern lords laugh.

“I had my doubts about you, but we are doing what we need to do to win. My apologies for doubting you Lord Stark.” Rickard Karstark says.

“We will show those Lannisters what a real winter is!” Galbart Glover says.

“Aye my lords, I have more news.” Robb says.

They quiet down and look on favorably.

“Lord Petyr Baelish has brought my father’s bones to rest at Winterfell along with his sword, Ice.”

The mood turns solemn.

“Aye.” The lords say.

“Lord Petyr Baelish is guilty of crimes, which Lord Yohn Royce has informed me of. We will have a trial within the fortnight. Lord Tyrion Lannister will be returned to the capital, in exchange for the items brought from the capital. Those were the conditions.” He says.

“Aye.” the lords say.

“Lord Roose Bolton has been scheming behind my back. He tried to join my brother, Jon Snow in taking up arms against me. Him and Walder Frey are trying to conspire to overthrow the North and the Riverlands. Greatjon, my little brother Rickon is at the Last Hearth. I want to send a few good men to retrieve him and defend Winterfell. Send a raven home to let your son know. Roose will feel the might of northern justice. He will have a trial the same time as Lord Baelish.”

“Aye.” The lords say.

“That’s all for today, my lords.” He holds up a mug of ale. The lords file out.

“Are you going to tell them?” Talisa asks.

“That my bastard brother is more king than me and that he just saved all our asses? They’d send me to the Wall if I admit to that, so easily.” He laughs. “I’ll tell them though. I need Jon to be here for that.”

“That’s nice, but I was talking about the other news though...” she says.

“What?” He says.

“Ned Stark.” She says firmly.

“Ned Stark? His bones are being-“

“Your son, my love, your son. Ned Stark is his name.” Talisa says with a bright smile.

His eyes widen and his breathing goes out of control. “Whaaa...”

“Yes. We are going to be parents in the middle of war. Make sure you win okay?” Talisa says.

Robb is silent, he can say nothing.

He looks up and sees his mother and Sansa. They are smiling at him.

“Damn, you heard then?” He says.

Sansa runs up and hugs him. His mother joins in.

“You’re going to be a great father.” They both whisper to him.

“Yeah, I’ll have you both to lecture him and tell him to be like father and not me right?” He says as they all laugh.

“Yeah and I’m glad you got married in secret, definitely don't want to bring a bastard in the world.” Sansa says.

Robb is looking at her sternly. She looks away in shame.

No one says anything.

A soldier comes in to report. “A raven, from Jon Snow, your grace.”

He finally looks away from Sansa.

“Jon is going to talk Stannis into letting him speak to Joffrey. If all goes well he will meet us at Roose Bolton and Lord Baelish’s trials.” He says.

“That means we have work to do.” He says firmly.

They all nod in agreement.

“Winter is coming for Roose Bolton.” Robb announces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure you can tell, but I’m not a writer. I just type. Enjoy if you can. Comments help.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon goes on a hunt. Jon and Joffrey meet, King to King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10K hits! That's crazy! I never thought that many people will care. I have to warn you though...This chapter is a bit darker than the others.

Theon Greyjoy(not quite Reek, but close)

Hunting.

For people.

Mostly damsels and pretty young girls. 

The price of betrayal is high. He’s been paying it with flesh. Eventually they will run out of things to cut off of him. Just a few finger nails have been removed so far. What will he cut next? The thought gives him a shiver.

“This one has a will to live, she has made it pretty far!” Myranda says excitedly.

The hounds are barking, they have a scent. She’s not long for this world. He thinks he hears a dog whine, but he puts that thought away. Maybe it tripped.

“You’re about halfway out of the woods! If you can make it, you get to live! You will win the game!” Ramsay yells.

That sadistic bastard. What am I then? I nearly killed boys much younger than this. I would have if they didn’t elude me, Theon thinks. 

Wolves start howling in the distance. No matter, he thinks. He does, however, feel a familiar sense.

A faint sight of a dress is seen. This girl is a goner. She has too far to make it out of the woods. Dogs start barking, they seem a little quieter than they were. Maybe they are farther away, he thinks.

“The dogs have the scent, but they are not yet howling. Was that a wolf I heard just now?” Myranda says. 

“No wolves in these woods, in any case the hounds will take care of them.” Ramsay says with a smile. 

They continue running through the woods. The hounds are still barking. Seems like they would have caught the poor girl already. I don’t deserve this. Okay, maybe I do deserve this. But no one deserves anything. Ramsay is telling me my name is Reek, but I’m Theon Greyjoy. I have to get out of here. But where will I go? The Starks will kill me. Robb probably wants my head. I might as well follow this Bolton bastard. No one else will have me. My own father has forsaken me, and I was just trying to be what I was born to be, Ironborn. I had so much pride in my house. Lord Stark was the one that taught me honor, but I’m just a backstabbing Greyjoy. I’m worse than that, because they don’t even try to kill little boys. They just take supplies and saltwives. Maybe I deserve to die, he thinks. 

“Come, Reek, I think I see her.” Ramsay smiles as he readies his bow. He didn’t notice that he sabotaged his arrows then, he threw the weight off by shaving the ends off when no one was looking. I’m Theon Greyjoy, dammit, he thinks. The thought gives him a smile. He looks and sees Ramsay notice his smile. He looks down at that.

The arrow misses and hits a tree. Ramsay is not happy. “Reek…are you fucking with my hunting arrows?” 

“No.” He says.

“Don’t lie to me. It’ll be much worse when you lie. I’m a good archer, and I miss the target altogether. You are not as smart as you think.” Ramsay says with a sadistic smile.

“I have arrows. We’ll take care of him after this hunt. I want to kill this pretty bitch.” Myranda says.

“I never heard anything better.” Ramsay says.

He wants to puke. These two disgust him. He hopes they die one day. A horrible death is what they deserve. Maybe after Robb kills me, he’ll kill them as well, he resolves. 

Myranda launches an arrow, breaking his thoughts. He can hear the arrow hit flesh and a scream is heard. Looks like she got the girl in the shoulder.   
Myranda and Ramsay jump up excitedly. 

“Good shot!” Ramsay says. 

She smiles brightly. He wishes he could slit her throat, but he doesn’t have a dagger and the hounds would rip him apart.

The hounds are quick to run to the sound of the scream. They are closing in on the girl. 

Myranda lets another arrow loose. This one hits the girl in the leg, now she’s likely finished. She won’t be able to get far. 

The dogs start to converge on the girl now, but it looks like less hounds than he remembers. There are five now, but wasn’t there ten before? Maybe they found something else to eat. Maybe she can fight these few off, he thinks. They run towards the sound of the hounds. A trail of blood leads to a small shrubbery. Trying to hide it seems. Not much help. The three of them go in to the bushes. There are the five hounds, barking and howling at the girl. She looks bloodied and cut. The bushes are thick, making it difficult to see, but he can tell that there are blood stains setting a contrast to her sky blue dress. This is horrible, and it doesn’t help that he has done worse. He hates himself for that. 

His concentration is broken by a dog whining. Now he only sees four. What just happened? He can faintly see a paw slap one of the hounds down, but it gets back up and now the other three are distracted from the girl. Ramsay looks around confused, but he has an arrow ready to shoot. When another hound starts whining, they they gang up on a shadow that he can’t make out. What is that? He thinks. Suddenly, a familiar growl wakes him from his stupor. It’s a giant wolf. Staring him right in the face. He wants to run, but he knows that will make no difference. The yellow eyes of the wolf are looking into his soul. It feels like he has been judged. An arrow flies out from the distance and hits the wolf in the torso. It quietly whines, and the three hounds left are trying to attack it. The wolf bites one vigorously and it falls back in pain. Its powerful paws strike one of the hounds and knocks it out before the other lunges at the wolf. He watches with intrigue as the wolf tears the last attacking hound in two with its powerful jaws. Now the Wolf is approaching him. He falls back while backtracking, tripping over a branch and the wolf gets closer. All of a sudden it runs past him, and he finally breathes again. He watches it go off into the distance and he hears a scream. That’s Myranda screaming, he thinks. He makes his way to the maiden that was being hunted, blood is pooling underneath her and she looks at him with horror. She finally is released from her pain and dies. He feels horrible for this. 

He walks slowly out of the shrubs and bushes, fearing for his life. It feels like it’s time to die. The wolf has bitten Myranda on the arm, and she is backing away from it. Ramsay is loading up an arrow in the distance, behind a tree. He is just about to speak when he hears a voice say, “Greywind, watch out.” The arrow misses when the wolf moves out of the way. This is Robb’s wolf, he remembers. They always did follow orders, unlike himself. A woman walks out of the woods and towards him and the wolf. It’s Sansa. He feels nothing but shame when he sees her.

“Myranda, you chose the wrong man.” Sansa says.

Robb comes forward now and is surveying the scene. 

“Ramsay Snow, you are a real bastard.” Robb says. 

Ramsay just shrugs, and then says, “She needed to learn that pretty faces don’t always mean anything.” Then laughs sadistically. Robb just glances at Theon, and then runs up to Ramsay and starts to beat his face and torso, pummeling him into submission. Myranda gets afraid now, but she stiffens up. “Do it then,” she says. “Go” Robb says and Greywind bites her throat and rips it out. Lots of blood is spilling out onto the ground. She falls lifelessly. Theon feels nothing from this. It feels like he should be next. Ramsay starts laughing. “I guess your sigil is real, hold on to the North while you can before the flayed man comes for you. Maybe I’ll hunt your beautiful sister next-“ Greywind runs over and rips him apart. Tearing flesh from bone, and breaking his body apart in chunks. Blood everywhere. He can’t seem to turn his head away from the sight of Ramsay’s strewn apart body. This is the friend I betrayed and he just killed my captor, he thinks. 

“Robb, don’t kill him.” Sansa says while pointing to Theon. 

Sansa walks up to him and inspects him, looking for injuries. She sees the condition of his hand and a look of sympathy appears on her face. It almost looks like she understands what has happened to him. It hurts his heart. He finds himself unable to speak. He wants to apologize to them, but his mouth just will not move. It could be fear, it could be shame, but he just cannot speak. Sansa just stands there looking at him with pity. 

“Bring him with us.” She says. He is shocked. Robb is just looking at her with anger in his eyes.

“He’ll come with us and I’ll explain it. Why we should not kill him.” She says.

Robb’s breathing hasn’t gone down in the slightest, and he walks over to him. He is cowering now, like a wounded animal, which is not different than what he feels like he is. Robb grabs his shirt and pulls him up and then punches him several times, knocking him unconscious. 

Storm’s End

Jon Snow and Ser Davos are standing before Stannis. Stannis is eyeing Ser Davos with anger and hadn’t really looked at Jon. 

“Where’s my daughter, Davos?” Stannis asks with a nasty look in his eyes.

“Safe from you.” Ser Davos says determinedly.

“Why would you steal a mans daug-“ Stannis starts before Ser Davos Interjects.

“Because your Lord isn’t getting Shireen in flames of sacrifice.” Davos says pointedly. 

Stannis gets quiet after this. He looks like he’s contemplating something.

“Why do you know that?” Stannis asks with guilt.

“Doesn’t matter, just know that it’s not happening while i’m alive, and it will take much more than you to kill me?” Davos says.

Jon smiles at this.

“You put him up to this? Who are you anyway? You look like a Stark.” Stannis points to Jon.

Jon looks contemplative. He doesn’t know whether to admit his name to Stannis. They had discussed it before, about giving him his real name, because the name Snow would only get him so far with this would-be-king.

“A true king will break the false ones.” Jon says to Davos. Davos is surprised that the boy seems to have such wisdom.

“Stannis Baratheon, you stand in the presence of the one true king of Westeros. Aegon Targaryen.” Davos says with emphasis.

Stannis stops looking at Davos now and is staring at Jon. He didn’t want to take it seriously at all but it starts to make sense. Aemon Targaryen at Dragonstone, one hundred thousand fighters in the Reach. Dorne and the North, and even rumors of the Vale. Lady Melisandre has been telling him that he would receive a visit that would show him the way. Could this be it?

He killed two of the men that were apart of the infamous murders in the Red Keep. Even if he wasn’t a Targaryen, he has a damn good story. He doesn’t look like one though, but that helps him in this case. He can hide in plain sight. This is the best strategy that he has ever seen. 

“What do you want, even if you are a Targaryen. Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?” Stannis asks.

Jon unsheathes Blackfyre and points it at him, Stannis notices that its Valyrian Steel. In addition, a roar is heard outside before a medium-sized green dragon comes flying in, landing on his shoulder. “Better men than you have tried.” Jon says.

A few guards step forward to defend Stannis, but Stannis stops them with the raising of his hand. They are too far away to actually help anyway, they were too far to even hear what the boy said.

“It’s been you all this time. You played Tywin. A man can appreciate that kind of bravery and planning. What is it that you are seeking? Too many usurpers are going to be in the way. What will you do?” Stannis asks with a stern look.

“I want to talk to Joffrey, and see him with my own eyes. I need to show him the truth of what he is and what winter brings.” Jon says.

Stannis looks at him for a short while, and then nods. “Do it before they find out I’m not at Dragonstone and come for Joffrey.” Stannis says.

Joffrey

He hears chains…they are not his. It’s dark, and he can’t tell for sure but he thinks he sees glowing blue eyes, he also hears what sounds like an animal, scratching and clawing and trying to bite. Are they about to feed me to animal? No, I am the King. Grandfather will come to my rescue, he thinks. He hears the chains being tied around a bar after someone enters his cell. The blue eyes are closer to him, and it makes him feel uneasy. What kind of eyes glow like this? Maybe this is some of Stannis’ scare tactics. 

“Who are you?” Joffrey asks. 

The figure lights a torch and he sees his face. He hangs the torch upon the wall and the cell is lit up. The bastard of Ned Stark from Winterfell, he recognizes. Why is he here? What is this blue eyed creature? Some bastard came to talk to me, the King! I’ll have him hanged just like his father. This Jon Snow will regret coming to see me.

“What kind of king are you supposed to be?” Jon says.

Joffrey just looks on, glancing at the blue eyes in the corner just lunging like an animal. He looks closer and can tell now that it was a man. But he has been long dead. So that’s where the smell came from. He had thought that smell was this visiting bastard.

“The kind that had your father killed when he dared to oppose me. Your sister tried to save him, with her weak heart. I beat some sense into her. Who are you to question me, bastard?” Joffrey says with a smile.

That seemed to light a fire in the bastards eyes. 

“Truthfully, you are the only bastard in this cell. You and this deadman here. He probably is a better king than you.” Jon says.

“I am the rightful King of Westeros. No one can touch me. I’ll have your head and kill all the Starks, just in time for winter to come.” Joffrey laughs.

Jon doesn’t react. He just stares at him.

“There it is. You think you can do whatever you like, that no one can stop you. Well, what can you do now, but screech and threaten until no one cares what you have to say. I guess you truly are Jaime’s bastard. Even with his problems, he’s a better man than you. He even admitted to being your father.” Jon says.

“Worthless Bastard. I’ll remove your head when I return to Kings Landing and take Sansa while she watches your head on a spike.” Joffrey says.

Jon’s face twitches, but he doesn’t want to be cowed by this false King.

“You are no king. You are a little boy that didn’t grow up and still misses his mother’s teat.” Jon says. Jon walks out of the cell and closes the door. Leaving him with the dead creature, though it’s still chained up. 

Joffrey is not done. “A little boy? The only little boy was your little brother Bran, I ordered a cutthroat to rid him of his misery. Too bad he didn’t get the job done. I’ll have to do it myself.”

Jon stops, he is still within range of vision. He turns around suddenly he hears wings flapping, what is that a bat? Joffrey thinks. 

“I…really…wish…you…hadn’t…done…that…” Jon says. 

Footsteps are heard running towards Jon. “Don’t do it Your Grace! You have everything you need to win this war-“ An older man says. The bastard just looks at him sternly and he gets silent. “Joffrey Baratheon, Lannister, Waters… I failed to appropriately introduce myself. I am not Jon Snow, some bastard to be cowed by you, but you tried to kill my little brother. You don’t get to live after that. I…am…Aegon Targaryen.”

He sees a dragon fly closer and into range. Oh shit. A dragon? I had heard reports, it’s no wonder that no one knew, this plan was elaborate. I guess the Maesters were right when they said that dragons were smarter than men. That’s why he outplayed us, he was a damn dragon. What have I done? He thinks.

“Dracarys” He hears from this…Targaryen. Flames come bursting into the cell, melting some of the bars and he jumps out of the way. That flame was hotter than any he’s ever seen. The bars aren’t completely melted though, but he sees the chain on the dead man melt off at the entrance to the cell.

The blue eyed creature comes running at him and he can’t raise his hands to fight it off. It bites him and he gets weak. It starts clawing him and he can’t see anything but blood and flesh. He is torn open and apart by the dead man, with his blood painting the walls of the cell. Flesh is torn from him his organs are ripped out of his body. The entire cell is bright red with blood, just like the Lannister cloaks.

“Time to wake up.” He hears.

His body rises now and now his friend, that just liberated him from that meaningless life he had just gave him the same blue eyes that he had thought he was afraid of. “I am awake…” His mind says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by the darkness that lives within me. I hope it wasn't too bad. Thank you for your comments. They are great.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin finds Joffrey. Daenerys meets strangers.

Tywin

Dragonstone was a dead end. The island was nearly deserted, precious time was wasted heading to the newly deserted island.

Stannis played him for a fool. We need to get the King back as soon as possible, if word spreads…best not pursue that thought.

Now the Lannister army rides for Storm’s End.

Above, he spots a flying animal with a man hanging by his leg in its talon or claw. It’s apparently a dragon. It causes an uproar amongst the army. The soldiers start panicking, seeing this green dragon, not small, but not big enough to carry a man on its back. The man in its claw looks like he’s dressed in Lannister Red. Hard to tell from so far away.

The dragon gets closer. It flies down lower, near him, it appears to be heading right towards him. Is it bringing the person to him, or does it mean to do battle? “Archers on the ready.” He says. They draw and aim their arrows. The dragon drops the man to the ground, while staying just about out of the distance of the arrows. An arrow looses towards the green dragon, but it just bounces off of the tough scales of the flying creature. Said green dragon, proceeds at a very fast pace towards the soldier that shot the arrow. The dragon lets out a stream of flame on the soldier that burns his armor and now the soldier’s entire body is engulfed in flame. The soldier’s horse shakes him off and tucks tail, running away from the Lannister host. All the while, the burning soldier is wailing and screaming, burning alive. Finally the flames die out, but the soldier is burnt to a crisp.

This burning soldier distracted the army from the man that was dropped by the dragon running oddly towards the Lannister army.

The man looks like he has a torn open cloak of Lannister red with some gold areas. Then he notices the blond hair, but the skin is pale. It gets closer and closer to him and he can tell that it's a dead man. His chest cavity is torn open and most of the organs are removed, with some blood still pouring out of the body. The dead man is rushing towards the soldiers. It looks like Joffrey. He has blue eyes, however. His eyes were green before. What is this madness? He had heard reports of dead men beyond the wall, but he never gave it a second thought. They must be true then. Joffrey is clearly dead, but his body still is moving towards the Lannister army. The men are getting uneasy and restless. “Ser Meryn, go and capture…that…thing that looks like Joffrey.” Not wishing to disobey his orders, Meryn Trant goes with rope and a sack to cover his head. Don’t want anyone to see that. “Fetch a crate!” He says to the men. They do so.

No one knows what to make of what they just saw. The men put the kings body into the crate. They got what they came for…Time to ride back to the capital. Grand Maester Pycelle is the first one that they need to see.

They ride back to the capital in silence…No one says a word…No one dares to admit anything that they just saw was real. Even if they spread the word, who would believe them? The Lannisters have been dealt a major blow. He wonders if he should have attacked Storms End, but sieges take extraordinary amount of time…

After the realization that Joffrey is dead(?) sets in, he realizes that he just saw a dragon. That means that this Aegon Targaryen is probably real…Now we are going to have to come up with some story to tell the people of Westeros. What will it be? We have to go back to the Capital…

After a hard ride, the host arrives back at the capital. The army host is now as somber as a winter night.

When their arrival is announced to the capital, Cersei and the rest of the small council are standing atop the battlements awaiting him and the army, they are surprised that he is back so soon, especially since no battle has been fought. He eyes the council, and gestures for them to meet. They nod and make haste to the council chambers.

Ser Meryn Trant and another soldier bring the crate into the small council meeting.

The Kingsguard and the soldier accompanying Tywin look as pale as a snowstorm.

Tywin gives orders. “Ser Meryn, stand guard outside the council chambers. Let no one in.” He gives the small council a look of terror. “Or out.” This brings a new mood of melancholy to the chambers.

Cersei is beside herself, she is staring at the crate in wonder. “What…happened…?”

He is still coming to terms with what he saw. He is never nervous, but now this is a new feeling. What can I do in this situation? Nothing, he reasons. The fact that he is speechless shocks the members of the council.

“Open the crate.” He says to the soldier. After he does, he instructs him to leave. “Stay back.” He tells the council. No one dares to defy him.

The dead body of Joffrey walks out of the crate. His face is covered, but the torso is torn apart, so they know that it’s a dead body, dressed like the king. No one is able to speak.

He goes and removes the sack from Joffrey’s head and now Cersei is straight to her feet. She goes up to the dead body and looks into its blue eyes, and weeps fiercely as her dead son tries to lunge at her. “Stannis…” she says. “But how…?” she chokes out between sobs.

No one says anything. The reports are starting to make sense now. Wildlings fleeing from beyond the Wall. They probably know more about this situation, but they don’t care about any high lords. They are allied with Aegon Targaryen, according to the rumors. They will lose this war, especially when they do not know the enemy. He had ignored all the reports of dead men from beyond the Wall, it sounded like nonsense, and now they have gotten the moving corpse of the King. Not only that, but he has no idea of what happened. This is madness.

Tywin explains to them about the reports. How he didn’t believe him. Varys tells an identical tale of embellished stories of dead men, that sounded like a mummer’s tale. Pycelle is denying any truth of the situation, even staring the dead Joffrey in the face. Cersei has not stopped crying, before turning to anger. There is nothing to be done, however, unless she wants to sue for peace with Robb Stark and Aegon Targaryen. Over his dead body, but when he thinks about that, a dead body, his thoughts turn back to his grandson. He pulls out his sword and stabs the dead Joffrey in the heart. It does nothing. The dead body doesn’t even notice, and keeps lunging toward them.

The council is again shocked.

He takes his sword and lines it up towards Joffrey’s head. He stabs Joffrey in the head, despite Cersei’s protests. Again, the body doesn’t notice. It keeps moving, fighting against the ropes and trying to bite at something, his jaws clamping repeatedly.

Pycelle can deny this no more. “This is impossible, this is an abomination, how could this be? He’s clearly dead, but yet we cannot kill him.” The Grand Maester says.

“That’s not all. A dragon was spotted on our ride to Storm’s End, that’s where we found…this…body…We didn’t engage, because the castle may soon be overrun with them. We have a damn big problem, and we were warned about it. We may be wiped out by the time Winter is here. Not only that, but we do not have a…King.” Tywin states sternly.

The council is disturbed by this realization. The truth of a dragon brings credibility to the claims of an Aegon Targaryen. No one seems to dismiss the deadly serious implications of how precarious their situation is.

Pycelle goes over to the dead Joffrey and stabs him with a dagger in different areas. No reaction from the body. He then uses the dagger to cut off a finger. The finger still moves after being removed.

No one knows what to make of this. The council sits in silence as if this is their last day alive.

After a long silence, someone finally speaks. It’s Tyrion.

“Dragonglass…you need dragonglass, fire, or Valyrian steel to truly kill it.” Tyrion says.

Daenerys

Dreams will be the death of me…She thinks.

The most recent one was a tree, with a face. She walked up to it and it spoke to her like it knew her. “Home” it said. Home? The one question that plagues me the most, she thinks. It’s bone chilling.

Then there’s a boy. An odd little boy without use of his legs. He is in a wheelchair. They are in an old castle, with fires set to keep warm. Snow is falling outside of the window. The boy just looks at her like she’s a book and he is reading her. No malice or animosity, just nothing. “Jon Snow is your home now,” he says with a slight smile. It makes her blood boil. The dangerous thought brings her back to the moment.

She’s negotiating with Kraznys for the Unsullied army. It’s time to pay up. She has some Gold from Qarth and some from the Iron Bank. That was a surprise to find the Iron Bank supporting her mysteriously, but maybe they finally decided that they were actually against slavery. Kraznys has been acting differently, maybe he misses Missandei, since she freed her, but that seems doubtful. He didn’t seem to value other people’s lives.

She goes and stands before him, with Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan handling the gold. Kraznys walks down the stairs toward her, shocking her into silence. Barristan and Jorah put their hands on the hilts of their weapons, but she holds her hand up to stop them, after she sees no weapons. Kraznys whispers in her ear, “I was wrong about you Daenerys Targaryen. Maybe there is more to you than it seems, I didn’t care to know before, but Jon Snow sends his regards.” What? Common Tongue? He hands her the whip controlling the Unsullied. She nowlooks around for other men with whips and finds none at first glance. Now she spots a single whip holder and he looks faint. An small object is on his neck and a shadowy figure quickly takes the whip from him. Strange...who is doing that? Whoever it is could kill her, yet they seem to be helping her. Why me? Why would someone want to help a Targaryen? Unless...This Jon Snow has been helping her, quietly, which turns her thoughts to Rhaegal. He left on his own accord, but in her dream he went to Jon Snow...could it be true? He’s a Targaryen? That’s why she can’t shake him from her thoughts, then.

She gets a burst of confidence over the responsibilities of having all these mens lives in her hands. Can’t fail them now.

“ _Unsullied_!” She yells to them. They turn to her when they see her holding the whip.“ _You are now free men. The only order you’ll get from me is, kill anyone that wants to take your freedom. If you choose to follow me, then we will together. Bring freedom to Essos. Only free men can follow me. I am the blood of the dragon, and together we will prove that dragons are no slaves. Do you wish to be my army of dragons?_ ” She says to the men. Drogon and Viserion roar. One unsullied comes forward and she instructs him to remove his helmet so she can look upon his face.

“ _This one is called Greyworm...I lead the unsullied...We will follow Daenerys the Dragon. We will be the free men of the dragon._ ” He starts banging his spear on his shield. The rest of the unsullied repeat. The sound of the rhythm makes her smile. Kraznys is eyeing her with suspicion, then he removes his face, to everyone’s surprise.

Now there is a little girl looking at her, with the same eyes and look as the man that has been haunting her dreams. Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah are shocked. “Jon was right about you, you are quite something.” The girl says. “I’m Arya Stark...”

“Seize her.” She says to the unsullied.

When the unsullied get closer, Rhaegal flies out of the sky towards them, and towards the girl, keeping the unsullied back, but not hurting them. Now she’s curious about this young girl. The girl, however, looks just as shocked as she is. “Come join us for supper then Arya Stark, and tell me how you got to be here.” The girl nods. Two unfamiliar men come along with her. She notices something on Rhaegal’s leg, but she files that away for later.

They make camp and find shelter for the night.

Rhaegal is staying close. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Irri, Missandei, Greyworm, Arya Stark, and a young man that she doesn’t know are in the tent. She is apprehensive of this Stark Girl, as are Ser Barristan and Jorah. They haven’t stopped looking at the girl. Rhaegal comes flying inand lands in Daenerys’ lap. She rubs his head, and he just hums. They missed each other, she thinks fondly. Rhaegal shows his leg and she notices a scroll on it. She reads it and her world is nearly rocked. It’s the details of what is going on in Westeros, laid bare. Jon snow wrote this, she thinks. How to tell the others? This is serious stuff if true. Also, this mysterious boy is a Baratheon? And it was me that gave him the name? Strange thoughts. The other figure was sent off to Braavos. He was just there to repay a favor. It was all laid out in an elaborate plan, all by the same person that has been plaguing her thoughts and dreams.

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She feels the eyes boring in to her and now she feels the need to inform them.

“Joffrey is dead.” She announces.

This gets their attention. Arya and Gendry are smiling. The two knights look on curiously. Greyworm, Irri, and Missandei are unfazed.

Arya finally speaks up. “I wanted to watch him die, but I’m glad nonetheless.”

“Did Jon do it?” Arya asks.

She nods.

“He was turned into a wight apparently, the capital announced that he’s sick, since he had gotten captured, but he tried to kill your brother, Bran, by paying an assassin when he was in the North. Jon lost his temper, but returned his body to Tywin.”

Gendy and Arya look at each other. “We have much to tell you. You won’t like most of it. But we must tell you. Best to do it alone.”

She nods. “Leave us.” She says to the others. Ser Barristan protests, but Nymeria, the wolf in the letter convinces him when she sneaks up on him. So now she knows that everything in the letter is true. She doesn’t know what to make of this. But the dragons will protect her if need be. They are right by her side. “Go,” she says to Ser Barristan. He finally leaves, though it warms her heart to see the old knight protecting her.

Arya and Gendry tell her about her life and death, the war with the dead, and Cersei. She tells them about Jon’s plans and then her and Arya are alone, after she has Gendry leave them alone. Arya informs her about all of Westeros and what is happening through Jon Snow and his plan…Jon’s scroll told her about his real name, and she is conflicted about that. Another Targaryen…that turns her world upside down, she knew it was possible, but hearing it is something else. Hearing about Westeros makes her go through a range of emotions, from happy, sad, angry, and even confused, but she’s also anxious to see it with her own eyes. Seems that Jaehaerys Targaryen was protected in the North by one of the men that had helped overthrow her family. This same man, was helping her to achieve her goals. She wants the throne, but it’s not the only thing that drives her. She also wants a place to call home. This information brings forth feelings that she didn’t know how to process just yet.

She says to Arya. “You’ve given me much to think about, and I hope you don’t cast me out like you say you did before.”

“Jon would kill me if I did, he appears to be completely devoted to you. I didn’t know why before, but I do now. I’ll help those old farts keep you safe. I would do anything for him.” Arya says with a smile.

She nods to her and bid her a good night.

She goes to sleep and dreams again, like always unsure of whether she loves or hates Jon Snow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you like it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb holds trials. Sansa teaches Hypocrisy 101.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support in reading this. It helps keep me going.

Robb Stark

The camps were quiet.

Time for the wolf to judge the sheep.

It doesn’t feel as great as he thought it would.

I need Jon, he thinks. It’s a strange thought, one that he never thought he’d say. He was a king in his own right wasn’t he? Yes, but without his brother, he would be losing the war, perhaps even dead. They have brought together almost all of Westeros, it feels odd, especially since he looks around and no one seems to harbor much animosity.

Arya came to see him. She is very different from the wild little thing he remembers. She is tempered and sharp, not so different from Mikken’s blades. Jon sent her on a quest, and while at first he thought she was too young and wild, he now has not doubt that she can do whatevershe wants. She could sneak anywhere and anytime, she proved to him. Even left some marks where she told him she would, and he still didn’t see her.

Oberyn is joining him to see the others tried. He will act as an impartial judge. Jon is supposed to be the third. He hasn’t arrived just yet. He hopes Oberyn is not too bored with all of this,

“We start as soon as Jon gets here.” He announces.

“Aye.” those in attendance say. No one questions his orders anymore, was that Jon’s doing or his? He can’t help but wonder.

“I need Jon to show me how to be a king. How odd is that coming from my mouth?” He says where only Sansa, his mother, and Talisa can hear.

“Jon is…the best of all us…” Sansa admits.

His mother doesn’t answer. Talisa gives him a smile.

“I’ll be happy to train my nephew on how to rule, once I learn how to do so myself.” It’s Jon.

That brings forth all sorts of happiness.

“Shall we?” Jon says.

The five of them nod. Time to get this over and done. 

“Bring the prisoners.” Robb says.

Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, Theon Greyjoy, and Petyr Baelish are brought to him. There is an executioner's block nearby.

“We are here to commence the trial of these four men, on the charges of conspiracy, murder, and treason. Since we are in my territory, I will act as the head judge. The other judges will be my brother, Jon Snow, and the prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.”

“Let us begin.”

A solemn mood takes over the scene. 

“Roose Bolton and Walder Frey, you are accused of the same crime, conspiracy to murder your liege lord and overthrow the North and Riverlands. With the help of the Lannisters.” Gasps are heard at this mention. “How do you answer these charges?”

They look at each other.

“Not Guilty.” They both say.

Oberyn speaks now.

“Do you understand that by pleading not guilty, if direct evidence is found against you, the right to a trial by combat is waived and you will be executed if said evidence is found?”

“Yes, I understand.” They both say.

Jon speaks now.

“We accept your not guilty plea, provided that no one coerced you.”

They both nod.

“Good. I don’t want to waste too much time, then.”

He throws a scroll to them.

“Soldier.” He states to a northman. “Please allow the prisoners to read the message by holding it up to them.” They look at each other with wide eyes now. They know their lives are over.

“This scroll is an account of betrayal by both men. With each other, no less. At the behest of Tywin Lannister. Roose was to become Warden of the North, and Walder Frey lord paramount of the Riverlands. This was to be accomplished by killing Robb Stark and his wife and mother, along with the other generals in Robb’s army.”

The scroll is read aloud to all present. It has detailed plans of how to overthrow Robb, strategically hold back men in areas when needed, and culminate at a Wedding at the twins, given a counterproposal from the North with regards to marriage.

After gasps are heard through out the area, there is now silence.

Roose finally speaks.

“I would like to change my plea to guilty, and get sent to the Night's Watch to man the Wall.”

Walder Frey is just silent.

“You were just asked if you knew the repercussions of the plea you entered. The judges do not accept your change of plea.” Oberyn states.

“With direct evidence against you, then I have no choice, but to render a verdict of guilty. Judges?” Robb says with a slight grin. “You could at least pretend to be sad about it.” Jon whispers in his ear. He lets the grin disappear after that comment.

“Guilty.” Oberyn says.

“Guilty.” Jon says.

“Very well. I, Robb Stark, King in the North and the Lord of Winterfell sentence you to die. Unless anyone present has a request for clemency.” He waits for a short while. “Let the sentence commence.”

Robb takes them to a block and beheads the both of them.

“Next, the trial of Petyr Baelish.” Robb says after returning to his seat.

Everyone in attendance feels uneasy at this, since no one knows how this will go down.

“Petyr Baelish, you stand accused of conspiracy to murder, and conspiracy of treason, with intentions to get my father, Ned Stark killed.” How do you answer?

“Not guilty.” Petyr says with a smile. He thinks he’s untouchable, Robb thinks.

“Do you understand that by pleading not guilty, if direct evidence is found against you, the right to a trial by combat is waived and you will be executed if said evidence is found?” Oberyn says.

“I do.” Petyr says.

“We accept, as long as you were not coerced or forced.” Jon says.

“No coercion or force.” Petyr says.

Good, Robb thinks.

Robb starts the accusations.

“We have a signed letter from the late Lysa Arryn, that details you as the co-conspirator in a plot to kill Jon Arryn, Hand of the King. Jon Arryn had found out that Joffrey Baratheon, was not a Baratheon at all and that he was Jaime Lannister’s son with his twin sister Cersei. After he found out he sought to expose them and you were the one behind his poisoning. She details that you provided the poison, and that she administered it. This is detailed in the letter from Lysa Arryn." 

“Hearsay. None of this can be authenticated, the woman in question was not of sound mind, and thus such a letter should be disregarded.” Little finger says with a smile.

Jon smiles in return. He speaks now.

“Surely some of what you mention is correct. Bring forth the witnesses.”

Jamie Lannister and Sandor Clegane are called forth to give detailed accounts of the actions of Petyr Baelish. From finding out about the Lannister twins, to holding a knife to Ned Stark when in the throne room. They were both present at the capital during those times. Their testimony brings Catelyn Stark to tears. After she stops crying she walks over to the judge table and whispers in Robb’s ear. “I want to be the one to kill him.” She says. Robb thinks for a while on this and confers with Jon and Oberyn. They nod to him. “Very well.” He says to his mother.

It’s time for the verdicts.

“Guilty.” Robb says.

“Guilty.” Jon says.

“Not guilty.” Oberyn says.

Robb and Jon are undecided on what to do, will they just override him or will the snake try to slither out of this? They didn’t set up ground rules for a decision that was not unanimous. The smirk on Oberyn’s face doesn’t make him feel any better about the situation…Something is going on, he can tell.

A sound of flesh tearing breaks his thoughts. His mother has taken the dagger that was confiscated from Littlefinger and is repeatedly stabbing him with it. Blood is accumulating on the ground below, and on the dagger. His mother looks just like Greywind when he mauls a person or animal to him. Robb is shocked, but Jon and Oberyn are not. Jon looks somewhat surprised, but not Oberyn. Him and mother must have worked it out then, as they had just agreed to allow her to carry out the sentence. Sansa walks over to little finger and delivers the final stab, in the throat, that kills him.

What the hell has happened to the women in his family? No one says anything, the only person that would seemingly object was Yohn Royce. He nods to his mother and sister. They planned this then. No matter. He’s dead now. No one voices any dissent, that was messy but he gestures for the body to be removed.

“Theon Greyjoy is the last trial.”

Theon is brought. He looks around and sees the blood stains from the previous trials. He doesn’t seem to be cowering now though, he seems to have his mind back from whatever was done to him. Robb can’t decide whether he cares or not.

“Theon Greyjoy you stand accused of-“

“Guilty.” Theon says.

The crowd starts murmuring.

Sansa walks up to the judges seats and pleads a case for clemency for Theon. Robb is shocked. She spent a lot of time detailing why she hated Daenerys Targaryen, but she did none of the things that Theon did. Hypocrisy is what this is. He doesn’t know what to do in this situation. He confers with Jon and Oberyn, and no progress is made. Jon is telling him how Theon died saving Bran, but he is still guilty. Oberyn is just stating that he admitted his guilt, without even hearing the charges. There is no precedent for this. This is a terrible situation. He has to say something because right now he is the head judge on this case. The Northerners would want Theon’s head, but it’s Sansa and Jon trying to save him. It doesn’t help that he hasa look on his face like a wounded animal. Finally he makes up his mind.

“We will make an exception for Theon Greyjoy, since Sansa Stark and Jon Snow are asking for a stay of execution. The offended parties, namely Brandon and Rickon Stark will decide Theon’s fate when they are returned to us. Until then, we will have a stay of execution. Since Sansa is speaking for you, you will be her personal guard until your fate is decided. Do you accept these terms, Theon Greyjoy?” Robb says determinedly.

Sansa nods to him.

“Yes, I accept your terms.” Theon says.

“Theon Greyjoy, make sure you earn the life that you have been given.” Jon says.

Theon nods. “Thank you. I will do just that.”

The crowd is murmuring, looking out amongst them, he sees approval, denial, happiness, sadness, and confusion. All the same feelings he’s feeling. So maybe this may work. He knows he will hear it from the Lords later.

“The trials are nearby adjourned. Let us celebrate the ending of treason in the North.” He says.

The crowd erupts in cheers. “Aye, to the ending of traitors!” The northerners chant.

Jon now gestures to them for them to meet together. They are anxious to hear his news, he doesn’t look happy though. Time to see what that’s about.

They make it to the private tent. Robb, Talisa, Catelyn, and Sansa join Jon for the meeting. He is looking at Sansa with anger, probably angry with her hypocrisy and fighting for Theon’s life after killing Littlefinger and bringing the woman he loves to an end, after she had done nothing against them, unlike Theon. I would be just as angry, Robb thinks. 

“I lost my temper, Joffrey admitted to hiring the cutthroat to kill Bran. He’s dead.” Jon admits.

No one says anything.

“That’s not all, he was killed by the wight, and now he’s a wight himself, they won’t know how to kill him until Tyrion tells them.” Jon says solemnly.

Again, no one speaks. They know that since the king is dead, the whole capital is in chaos, likely. He seems to be waiting for someone to accuse him of doing it just to take the throne. His mother seems like she wants to do so, but fear holds her back it seems. Sansa has a similar reaction.

Jon seems to notice this and smiles. Robb never thought he’d ever get to see a day where Jon Snow scares the shit out of Catelyn and Sansa Stark. He wants to laugh at this.

There seems to be more that he wants to say, but a soldier with a raven’s scroll arrives at the tent. He goes to take it and is baffled, but only because it’s a Targaryen sigil. But then he remembers Jon telling him about an uncle at Dragonstone. “For Jon Snow, your grace.” The soldier says. Of course it is.

Jon opens and reads the raven, reads it again, and then paces. Not good news apparently. He paces for a while longer and reads the scroll again. What could it be?

“I have to go. Damn it to hells.” Jon says.

“Where?” He asks.

“Dragonstone.” Jon says.

“What’s at Dragonstone?” He asks.

Jon looks like he just got bad news. Hopefully his uncle, Aemon was it(?), hopefully nothing happened.

Jon walks up to him and whispers into his ear… “Do not tell a soul, not even Talisa. Burn this letter after you read it. Do not betray my trust, brother…” Jon says with his eyes watering, threatening to burst with tears. Something has definitely happened.

He nods to Jon. Jon leaves.

He instructs the others to leave, they look at him both angrily and curiously, and then leave him.

He slowly opens the Scroll.

To Jon Snow,

It concerns me to learn that someone is out professing to be a Targaryen. I even heard reports of a Dragon flying in Westeros. That is why this letter is not a threat. I believe that I may be your older brother, but I must ask, dear brother, what have you been doing in my name? I am at Dragonstone, but I brought the Golden Company to treat with Tywin Lannister in the capital. Jon Connington and Harry Strickland went in my stead. We must meet with him, he did pay us after all, but I will not be meeting him myself. If you are who you say you are, why not kill him together, dear brother?

Signed,

Aegon Targaryen VI, the Young Griff.

“What in the Seven hells?” Robb says as he burns the letter…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how great this chapter is, but I hope it went well.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Golden Company arrives to the Capital. Jon goes to Dragonstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hitting a bit of writer's block here recently, working through it though. Anyway, here's a new chapter.

Jon Connington

He laments leaving Young Griff behind, but he doesn’t question it.

Aegon said he was meeting someone important, but he didn’t tell him who it was.

Trusting his king, that’s what he’ll do. It’s gotten him this far.

Now, he has to meet with Tywin…

He is summoned to the throne room, but where is the King? It’s all the same he supposes, now that he thinks about it, the true power behind the throne is Tywin anyway.

“We have work to do.” Tywin says.

He now notices a dwarf standing next to him, this must be the famous Imp.

“Where is the King?” he asks.

Tywin and Tyrion look at each other.

“He is…sick…since he returned to us from Storm’s End. I will be ruling in his stead.” Tywin says.

“Wasn’t that always the case? No offense, my lord.” He asks.

I suppose Tywin is a bit intimidating, but I have a dragon on my side, he thinks fondly.

“How many men did you bring?” Tywin asks.

Harry finally speaks.

“Thirty thousand, my lord. Fifteen thousand horses. One thousand elephants.”

“Good.” Tywin says.

Tyrion is eyeing him with intrigue, this makes him feel uncomfortable. What does this dwarf want?

“Do you have any dragonglass or Valyrian Steel?” Tyrion asks.

Dragonglass? Why would I have that?

“I only heard of the substance recently, but the Iron Bank is selling it for hefty prices. I overheard them talking about it amongst themselves saying that substance is in high demand now. I have no idea what that’s about.” He says to Tyrion.

Tyrion looks defeated by this. He looks like he’s ready to surrender.

“Damned Targaryen…” Tywin says.

What the hell did he just say!? Targaryen!? I must know…

“What’s this about a Targaryen?” He asks Tywin.

Tywin informs him of a green dragon, along with a plan from an Aegon Targaryen to nearly unite Westeros against him. That was the plan, yes, but he has been with Aegon all this time. What madness is this? He doesn’t know whether to ask or not, but Tywin speaks more on the situation. He explains, the Reach, Oberyn’s defection, the North, and the deaths of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch. Tywin doesn’t say it outright, but he seems to know that he is next. What does set him on edge though…is the mention of this person possibly having a dragon. That changes everything…the Golden Company could be wiped out, possibly making him completely powerless. This is bad, best not show it on his face, he resolves. The other odd thing, is that Tywin almost sounds defeated. This is glorious. Some pretender, just by using the name Aegon, has nearly destroyed one of the most powerful men to ever live. What could he do in this situation?

Tyrion seems to be still reading him, so he tempers his emotions to not betray his intentions.

Tyrion and Tywin lay out the plans for the Golden Company, and now they have a good sized army, around ninety thousand to match the large numbers that he believes the other Aegon has. Those numbers can’t be true.

Tyrion seems to be looking at Tywin with anger, but he puts that away for now.

“Come, we have a realm to secure.” Tywin says.

He thinks fondly about how the walls will close in on Tywin soon. But he can’t seem to shake the odd feeling about this dwarf that seems to watch his every move.

“Come and let us discuss the future, Lord of Griffin’s Roost.” Tyrion says. “We can meet in this chamber here to come to an agreement about how best to proceed.

He goes into the meeting with Tyrion, curiously…

They meet together, in a small, private chamber.

“What are you after, Jon Connington?” Tyrion asks.

“I’m not sure I understand the question. I am here to provide men to Kings Landing.” Jon replies.

“Loyal men?” Tyrion asks.

Jon nods in response.

“Well I’ll let you in on a secret, my father’s days are numbered. You are backing the wrong horse.” Tyrion says.

“I was backing the gold that we are paid, really.” Jon replies.

Tyrion smiles.

“Maybe I chose the wrong words. I owe a great debt, I am no fool, you should know. I know who you are and your connection to Rhaegar. I am firmly on the side of dragons.” Tyrion relates.

He’s shocked, but doesn’t say anything.

“Now, let me tell you my plans for overthrowing Tywin Lannister…” Tyrion says.

Dragonstone

Jon is very conflicted about being at the shore of Dragonstone. This is where he met her. The woman that brought him back to life, in his opinion. He can’t come to terms with the fact that his brother may be alive, and it haunts him. The other problem is that he doesn’t know how to proceed in this situation. If it was really his older brother, then Jon would be the second in line of succession. Anger, and betrayal, are all that he really feels at this point. Was this how Daenerys felt when he told her? That stings. He has to come to terms with these burdens and quickly, because there is a silver haired man before him, gazing upon his features. Could this be my brother?

“Well, aren’t you something? You claim to be a dragon, but you don’t look much like one.” Aegon says.

“You speak true, but your looks don’t make you a dragon. You have neither scales nor wings.” Jon replies.

“Well said. I think you may be a special person indeed. I don’t know you, but I’d like to.” Aegon admits.

He holds out his hand for Jon to shake. He does so.

It’s odd, he wants to believe that it’s his brother, but something feels off…

“Have you been to Dorne?” He asks this Aegon.

“No, I have not, my…advisor…advised against it for the time being.” Aegon says.

“I have been, I can’t be sure if you are who you say you are, and as you said, I know nothing of you. There are ways to find the truth though.” Jon replies.

“Oh? What ways would those be?” Aegon says.

“Walk with me, please.” Jon says.

“Very well.” Aegon replies.

They head into the castle together. Aegon is looking curiously at all the Targaryen dragon carvings and the aesthetics of the area. He appears to be in awe.

“There is a real dragon here, yet you waited for me. Could you not sense this?” Jon says.

“I don’t follow, you are saying this is where the dragon is that was reported?” Aegon says.

“Come, let me show you a dragon.” Jon says with a smirk.

This gets Aegon interested. He hurries is pace into the castle.

Maester Aemon is seated on a chair in the throne room, seemingly waiting for the two of them.

“Jon Snow has returned home.” Aemon says with a smile. “Who is this that you brought with you?” He askssoftly, with intrigue.

“I was hoping you could tell me, Uncle.” Jon says.

Aegon now looks with wonder, this man intrigues him, he seems to be blind, yet he can see.

“I am Aemon Targaryen, but I must ask, who are you, and who are you supposed to be?” Maester Aemon says. 

“My name is Aegon Targaryen. I have been hidden away by Jon Connington-“ He’s cut of by the Maester.

“A man that doesn’t know a dragon if it burned him, is it?” Aemon retorts.

“He told me that I was the son of Rhaegar and Elia, uncle.” Aegon says.

“How would this Connington know anything? You may be of Valyrian descent somewhere down the line, but you are not the son of Rhaegar. A dragon knows his like, boy, and you are notrue dragon.” Maester Aemon states.

Aegon is silent. Finally he speaks. “You are trying to trick me! There is no way that what you say is true! I am the true son of Rhaegar, not this…northern whelp! The Iron Throne is mine by my right of birth, I have lived my whole life in secret for this!” He unsheathes his sword in anger.

This makes Jon angry. He can now understand why Daenerys was perturbed by his lineage and claim to the Iron Throne. It would seem that someone with a better claim could throw all his work into the wind. Not only that, but he looks more like a Targaryen. His heart aches for the woman that he still loves, but he resolves himself knowing now that this boy is not his brother. In addition, he has his sword out and aimed at one of his last remaining family. He unsheathes Blackfyre.

Aegon’s eyes widen when he recognizes the sword.

“How and where did you get that sword?” Aegon questions.

“I found in my father Rhaegar’s records.” Jon replies.

“Lies!” Aegon swings at him with his blade.

He parries the blow. He knows that this is not his brother, but the boy had not done anything up until this point.

“Do you have a death wish? I am not some soldier to be trifled with, I am Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name. You are not my brother, and you will stand down.” Jon says determinedly.

Aegon seems to be contemplating this. He still hold his blade in hand and is breathing heavily. He slowly advances on them.

Maester Aemon is silently contemplating. “Boys, this is not time to-“ Aegon advances on him.

He swings a quick horizontal strike towards Jon, attempting to disarm him. Jon holds Blackfyre steady. Time to be a dragon, he thinks. He quickly returns the swing and it is met with a parry from Aegon. Aegon returns the strike with a stabbing strike towards his torso. He dodges to the side and bumps against Aegon with his shoulder. Aegon loses his balance momentarily and Jon tries to kick him, but Aegon is too agile. Aegon readies a riposte at his unguarded shoulder and he barely moves out of the way. This Aegon is good with a blade, he thinks.

The continue meeting each other blow for blow, strike for strike for a time. They are unable to disarm one another, nor are they able to land a decisive blow to end the battle. Outside of the occasional punch and kick, they are nearly evenly matched.

“You have my respect, but you are missing just one thing.” Jon says.

“Indeed you are a great fighter, but what bluff are you prattling on about?” Aegon replies.

“A king’s blade.”Jon says with a smile. He readies a two handed, powerful strike at Aegon and Aegon appears ready to catch it with his blade. Once Blackfyre reaches the other blade, it cuts through the steel and with great effort, Aegon’s sword is torn asunder. The blade continues through and slices Aegon on the shoulder, wounding him.

He hisses with pain.

“You have beaten me, but what will you do now? Is Blackfyre bloodthirsty?” Aegon asks with concern on his face.

“Indeed it is, but not for yours…” Jon replies.

He knocks Aegon out and locks him in a cell.

“See to him Maester…” Jon says.

Aemon replies. “As you say, my boy.”

His adrenaline wears off and all the feelings come pouring in…

This…Aegon…could make a case for the Iron Throne. He’s a threat. Was that how Daenerys felt about him? Not only that, but the boy has been lied to his entire life. Not unlike himself. He can’t bring himself to kill Aegon. The situation is terrible. He can ask the three eyed raven for answers, but he also is overwhelmed by his need for Daenerys. She was the only person that could guide him, in this instance. He doesn’t feel as though he deserves it. He thinks bitterly, on how he’s just as much of a hypocrite as Sansa, lamenting the fact that someone could take his birthright away.

He needed to go to the Godswood.

Finally he walks up to the Weirwood tree.

“Is Aegon a real Targaryen?” He asks the tree.

The face starts moving, but no words come out. It looks like it’s preparing to say something, but no sounds are made.

“The boy is a Blackfyre, the mummer’s dragon he is.” The tree says.

“Does he know who he is?” Jon asks.

“Few people know who they are. He has been sold a story of dragons, hiding away from those that want nothing but power, a false story.” The tree responds.

“Should I kill him?” Jon asks.

“That is something for a King to decide, Jaehaerys the councilator. The Three-Eyed Raven is no King,” says the tree.

Too many thoughts swimming around in my head, Jon thinks. What do you do with someone that wants to take everything from you?The only person that has ever helped him organize his thoughts and had the proper sense of justice was Daenerys. He needs her, more than he even knew.

What he knows now, is that he is no King, without her…

“Can I see her?” Jon asks the Heart Tree.

No immediate answer.

“Yes. But I don’t have much power in Essos.” The tree says.

He places his hand on the tree.

The only thing that he can think of is that he still needs her, hopefully she won’t kill him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Don't know what else to say.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons meet. Back to Dragonstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Had to take a day.

Daenerys

Jaehaerys Targaryen is his real name.

He has been giving her everything she ever wanted. She is disturbed by this, because she can’t just forgive him so easily.

The person that killed her, is now helping her survive. How mad a thing is that to say?

The thoughts make it difficult to concentrate on her training.

“Is this poisonous?” Arya Stark says to them.

Strange little girl. She can come and go as she pleases, with no one seeing her.

No one questioned her after she stole both Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah’s blades, without them noticing. She could clearly kill any of us if she wanted, Daenerys ponders.

“Tears of Lys.” Missandei says.

Daenerys, Missandei, and Irri are blindfolded. Smelling their way through poisons. They have to determine which food is poisoned and which isn’t, or they don’t eat. It’s cruel and tedious, but it’s also the best way to learn.

She hears a slapping sound.

“Wrong answer, dead girl.” Arya says.

She doesn’t need a blindfold to see that the Stark girl is smiling after slapping Missandei with a stick. She enjoys this.

“Wolfsbane, is what this is. You will need this herb to counteract the poison.” Arya says as she holds a peculiar smelling herb in front of their noses.

“Know it well, if you want to survive, yes? You are pretty, but how pretty can a dead girl be?” Arya states.

She has a point there.

“Now, what is this poison?” Arya states.

“This one is clear of any toxins.” Irri states.

Another slapping sound.

“I made this one feint on purpose, it’s hard to tell when it’s just a little, but this has traces of the Long Farewell. You have to take this to stop the poison.” Arya puts bottle of sweet smelling liquid before their faces.

They have spent a great deal of time learning the basics of the blade, and the kinds of poisons that are used to kill. Ser Jorah was hesitant at first, but he relented when the Stark girl poked quite a few holes in him during a spar. Jon Snow, the hidden dragon sent Arya to her, to train her. Madness, it must be, but the smith had forged them Valyrian Steel weapons. Just enough weapons for Missandei, Arya, Irri, and herself. He also gave her some secret chainmail armor, that would protect her from blade strikes. Another thing that Jon Snow did to protect her. He knew that dragon fire could forge the toughest weapons known to man. The cold emptiness in her heart is beginning to dissipate.

Is that what it means to be vulnerable? That feels like a dangerous thought, but it also makes her happy.

“What poison is this before you, Targaryen?” Arya asks as she hands her a glass of wine.

The girl has no desire to watch her mouth when speaking to her. It’s actually refreshing. Everyone else is afraid of her, she feels refreshed to have some one that is not.

She remembers the different smells, each poison, and the cure. It’s hard to tell, but what the girl doesn’t know is what it means to be a dragon.

After smelling it, and feeling the temperature by pouring on her skin, she grabs the glass of wine and drinks it.

“Are you sure?” Irri and Missandei ask her.

Light comes to her eyes as Arya removes her blindfold.

“You have been tempered by fire, fire that burns others to ashes, maybe you have what it takes to-“ Arya gets closer to her, whispering in her ear, “be my good sister.”

Her heart is now beating out of control.

“You get to eat today, Targaryen. Enjoy, while you can. Now, come along, dead girls.” After Arya announces this, Irri and Missandei follow along clumsily, still blindfolded.

This training is gruesome. She grabs the food and eats it like it is her last meal. She grabs some to sneak to Irri and Missandei. A queen must provide, she thinks with a smile.

She takes the tie ups out of her hair, letting it flow wildly, so that she can bathe, washing off the dirt and grime from training. Her body is sore and tired, and while bathing she falls asleep.

The sound of water moving rouses her from her sleep.

She blinks her eyes open, and sees the man from her dreams standing before her, apprehensive about getting closer...as he should be.

He stares at her for a time, not making her as uncomfortable as she would have originally thought. He walks closer and grabs a cloth and soap, which she oddly welcomes, as she is too weak from training to put up much of fight.Neither one of them speak for some time. He bathes her carefully, and she enjoys every second of it. She is weak to this man. He could probably strangle her at this very moment, and she wouldn't even resist. She is astute enough to notice that he had put down all his weapons. Of course she has weapons hidden all around her tent as well, in case she needs them. Her training is coming together.

“You are...the only person that I needed to see...” Jon says.

“Some King you are...showing your weakness...shall I overthrow you then?” She replies.

“Some Queen you are...letting a strange man into your chambers...all sorts of foul play could happen.” Jon retorts.

She is silent.

She rises out of the bath, uncaring as he gazes upon her body. She searches his face for a reaction, and is amused at the emotions on his face. Lust, longing, shame, even hints of sadness. She puts on her robe and places her hands on his face with no protest from him.

“One of the true measures of a king, is that no one tries to stay your blade. I have learned that I lost my way, my heart was empty and I chose to fill it with fire and blood.” She says to him softly.

“I have since learned that you are a true king. No one may have told you this, but you did the right thing...” she glances away from him, before setting her violet eyes directly upon his grey ones, “there were times you were a true king, once when letting the free folk through the wall...and another was when you killed me...I now believe that if you chose to do that, then I deserved it.” She turns away from him.

“But that does not mean that I forgive you.” She says. He gets closer and whispers in her ear.

“You know, I heard that the dragon does not burn, is that true?” Jon asks.

She nods.

“Then why is your body on fire?” He says as he places his hands on her waist.

At this point she is unable to hear anything over her heartbeat. She turns around to him, stares at his face, then down at his lips, then into his eyes again. He’s right, she’s on fire. She hates the effect that this man has on her body.

She kisses him. He returns the favor after she slows down. The dragon is ready to devour.

“I need to tell you something.” He says in between kissing her. He needs to stop talking.

“What do you have to say to me?” She replies.

“I need…you…Dany...I am no King with out you.” he replies.

Her heart is out of control, he’s opening himself to her. What the hell is she supposed to do? Damn him, she thinks. A part of her wants to kill him, but now all she can think of is ripping his clothes off. Her legs are starting to turn weak, and she doesn’t mind it.

“I can’t stay...I have to go...” he says quietly.

“Then why come to me?” She asks.

“I found the mummer’s dragon. He appears to be a boy around my age, with similar features as you. But he is not my brother, though his name is Aegon, he’s a Blackfyre, really. I wanted to ask you, what I should do.” He says.

They are both breathing heavily. She kisses him again, feverishly, leaving him speechless.

“You are more king than anyone I ever met, I have no doubt that you will find your own answer, now go and be a king, Jaehaerys Targaryen.” She says to him.

He kisses her again. “Thank you, Dany. Now tell me, do you feel like you are home now?” Jon says with a smile.

“What do you think?” She says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Then, the next time I see you, I will have you, Daenerys Targaryen. You will have no other king but me. My time is up, I must go.” He says.

He disappears.

She laments that she didn’t have more time with him...yet another reason to go to Westeros.

She would sleep soundly tonight...

Dragonstone

Tyrion and Jon Connington enter the Dragonstone dungeons.

Connington is looking worried,he wonders what that’s about.

They see Maester Aemon bandaging a young man. It’s too dark, he reasons, but then he remembers that the maester can’t see anyway. Maester Aemon leaves them to talk.

Connington opens the cell to let Aegon out. He doesn’t leave. What happened to him?

“What are you doing?” Connington asks while staring at the boy looking defeated.

“You lied to me.” Aegon says.

“What are you talking about?” Connington asks with a concerned look.

Aegon looks up at him, as lost as a stray animal.

“He has Blackfyre.” Aegon laments.

“No, that cannot be...”. Connington replies.

“He does, I’ve seen it as well. Looks like he holds all the cards.” Tyrion says.

“The Golden Company will abandon us for that damned sword. Westeros will not easily follow foreigners. We have no power. We were meant to take the throne.” Connington says.

“I am...no Targaryen.” Aegon says.

Connington is shocked.

“Who told you this and how do you know?” Connington asks curiously.

“I saw it, I can’t really explain it other than a raven, with three eyes, showed me the way. I have traces of Valyrian blood, but I am a Blackfyre, descendant of bastards. I am no king.” Aegon says through gritted teeth.

After a long pause, Aegon speaks again, angrily. “Did you know?” He asks Connington.

Connington shakes his head. "No, I would not lie to a man about his own name."

“I believe you. Who would have done this?” Aegon asks.

Steps down into the dungeon interrupt the conversation.

Jon Snow and Varys enter the dungeon with Varys having a look of fear on his face.

“I aspired to put a false dragon on the throne, we thought that he would be easily controllable.” Varys admits.

“You lied to a boy his entire life, for your own selfish ends?” Jon Snow asks. He unsheathes his sword and points it at Varys.

“My apologies, my king. I didn’t think my scheme was important enough to tell you.” Varys says with his head down.

“You thought you would masquerade a boy as my brother, and not think that was important?” Jon Snow says firmly.

Varys is confused for a moment about the implications of Aegon being Jon's brother, but he regains his composure, and gets behind Jon Connington with a dagger aimed at his throat. “You wouldn’t kill your only supporters in the Capital would you, Jon Snow? Stay your blade.”

Jon looks surprised for a moment, he looks contemplative. Tyrion comes over to Jon Snow and whispers in his ear, “he knew your father.” Jon Snow stiffens at this.

“You knew Rhaegar?” He asks Connington.

Connington nods. Jon Snow walks closer to Varys with resolve and determination.

“Release him,” he says to Varys.

Varys looks apprehensive about releasing him.

Jon Connington looks strangely at Jon Snow, like he’s looking for something.

“You were misinformed about who I am, Spider. My name is Jaehaerys Targaryen, rightful king of Westeros. I stay my blade for no one.” He nods to Jon Connington, and then quickly swings a decisive, horizontal strike as Connington ducks out of the way. Blackfyre goes through Varys’ neck, removing his head. Varys' body just limps over and falls, staining the dark floor of the dungeon. The room's mood takes a solemn turn.

“That is a King.” Aegon says.

Connington slowly walks over to Tyrion. “He is the son of Rhaegar?”

Tyrion nods.

Connington is baffled. He paces around the dungeon, before settling down and finally stopping to speak.

“The Golden Company is yours. Please accept this gift, as well.” Connington says humbly.

“So that’s it then? You are abandoning me so quickly?” Aegon asks sadly. 

“No, my boy. Just joining the winning side. You are still alive and you can be a part of it too.” Connington says.

After a long silence, Aegon decides to speak.

“Be the dragon that Westeros needs, Jaehaerys.” Aegon says, nearly in tears.

A stabbing sound is heard in the cell. Jon Snow rushes over to see what happened. Aegon has taken a dagger into his own chest. He starts coughing and wheezing. It appears that he missed his vital organs.

“He will probably live, watch him will you?” Jon Snow says.

Connington nods, still eyeing him, probably looking for similarities to Rhaegar.

After a short, but uncomfortable silence, Jon Snow finally asks. “What gift?”

Tyrion speaks up.

“Tomorrow at midday, you will meet with Tywin Lannister, for a parlay, to accept his terms of surrender.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dragon meets a lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a bit slower, but it is important.

Jaehaerys Targaryen

“Where will the parlay take place?” He asks Tyrion.

“On the field, between this island of Dragonstone and Kings Landing, tents will be erected for this meeting.” Tyrion responds.

“Do you think Tywin is trying to set me up?” He replies.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, but it would be difficult to pull off. He could count on you to show up, since that will be the last thing you need and you will have the throne.” Tyrion points out.

“You are a fool if you think I trust you or him. I don’t have enough time to bring Jaime, but arrange for Cersei to be there as well, I don’t want to be caught off guard. I know that Tywin is a schemer, and he must know that I want him headless. My advantage is that he doesn’t know me. I will use that.” He says.

“You are a wise and shrewd king, I wish I had known this when I first saw you in Winterfell. I may have kidnapped you and used you to further my own ambitions.” Tyrion smiles.

“I don’t trust you at all, you had to have been one of the worst Hands to ever exist. I know that you can’t have much love for Tywin though. It just begs the question, how do you betray Daenerys after having the kind of father that you have?” He asks pointedly.

Tyrion looks away embarrassed. “I am my father’s son after all. The great shame of my life. I hope that one day, I can make it up to you. I never asked, but what will you do with me?”

“The Queen will decide your fate.” He says with conviction.

There is a long silence. Tyrion doesn’t like the sound of this. He knows that he doesn’t have anything to offer.

“That’s right, you should be afraid. Don’t be too alarmed, I have had others watching you for some time. You are not quite as smart as you think.” He says.

“It’s the bond with the green dragon isn’t it? Rhaegal is his name, named for your father. That made you a bit smarter. You were quite the idiot before, you should know.” Tyrion japes.

He nods to Tyrion, with a grin. “That’s probably one of the reasons I have let you live, you do have some redeeming qualities, but you are…still a Lannister.”

Tyrion looks contemplative.

“No wonder you played us all for fools. You are probably more intelligent than any man now. Well done, Jaehaerys, third of his name.” Tyrion mocks.

“Don’t patronize me, you had a game to play, and you lost it. Even if you found a way to kill me, you can’t take my power away, the people who follow me will never follow anyone else.” He grabs Tyrion by the collar. “You haven’t defeated a man, unless you make him powerless. That’s what I believe.”

Tyrion raises his hands in surrender. “Defeated I am, how right you are.”

“For the record, my father is much worse than Daenerys. A lot of what happened, happened because of my failures.” Tyrion laments.

“Tell her yourself, if she doesn’t kill you first.” He replies.

Finally, Tyrion stops talking.

“Let us go and meet your wretched family.” He says firmly.

They make their way to the field…

One large red and gold tent with a lion sigil is in a field. A vast field, with grass extending for miles and a mostly flat landscape. Movement is seen in the case of ten soldiers surrounding the tent, preparing a standing distance to stay back from the meeting. They probably are armed to the teeth, he is hoping that he doesn’t have kill them.

He decided to bring Ghost, and Ser Davos, thinking that hopefully Tywin will think him weak without a personal guard. He wants him to try something. Tyrion is allowed to come along too, provided that he only speaks when spoken to. He agrees to those terms.

Upon walking toward the tent. The soldiers stop him and ask his name. He tells them Jon Snow, while announcing his companions, but Ghost is laying back to stay out of sight. When they question him about his name, he says that he is representing Aegon Targaryen and that they have an alliance. Time for secrecy is coming to an end. He spots Tywin Lannister and his blood begins to boil. The Old Lion, the powerful man, the commanding Lord. Keep your composure, he reasons, there will be time for justice. This is just a meeting. He is escorted by the soldiers into the tent. They do not take his weapons.

He arrives into the small, but filled tent. He spots gold bars in the corner, as well as parchment and ink quills. No weapons immediately in sight, but he remembers how Robb was killed at his wedding and is determined not to share the same fate. Tywin is eyeing him with interest. Cersei looks at him uninterested. Tyrion stands as a mediator between him and Tywin. Seems as though he is trying to prove his loyalty.

He decides not to wait for Tywin to speak.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with you, Lord Tywin? I didn’t expect to see you so soon, or with your head still attached to your body.” He says.

Tywin doesn’t respond right away, he seems to be staring him right in the eyes, maybe he’s resigned to find out who he is and it’s coming together for him. Cersei now looks interested, she probably has never seen her father speechless.

“I see it in you. The fire, that Aerys had. It’s in you isn’t it? How does a boy gather as much power as quickly as you did? I would not take it seriously if I had not seen the dragon with my own eyes.” Tywin admits.

“As well as what happened to Joffrey…” He retorts.

Everyone looks at him now. They look at him with suspicion, anger, and then sadness.

“Did you know that Joffrey hired an assassin to kill Bran Stark? He had been pushed out of a window and crippled, after…” he glances at Cersei, “your children wanted to keep their little secret.” She looks as if she wants to speak, but says nothing.

Tywin says nothing, neither does Tyrion.

“Look at you lot, I have paralyzed the most powerful house in Westeros, just by using a name, a name that you fear. I am responsible for what happened to Joffrey, I didn’t mean to turn him into that. However, he did make his choice. I only wanted to show him that the threat was real. I won’t apologize though, because I am not actually sorry.” He says with a blank look.

“I must know, before we continue, what news of Jaime?” Tywin asks. Cersei looks up at this, with her eyes threatening to overflow with tears.

He thinks for a moment, and then speaks. “He confessed to the crime of pushing Bran out of the window. I punished him for that.”

Tywin quickly replies, “He doesn’t know how to be punished, he takes nothing seriously, what could you possibly do to punish-“

“I took his sword hand.” He says while looking directly in Tywin’s eyes.

Cersei looks at him and turns furious.

“You will not get away with this. Seize him!” She says to the soldiers, pointing towards him. They begin to stir, but Tywin grabs her hand and puts it down, shaking his head at her.

“What is your plan for Westeros, if you succeed and what will you do to my family and house?” Tywin asks.

“You think I’m you, do you? You think I would send soldiers to slaughter innocent children, like you did to Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys? I would have you know that Jaime is not even a prisoner any longer. He could have long ago returned. He chose to stay.” Jon practically spits out.

“You are just a lying, hateful bastard, how could you-“ Cersei begins before he cuts her off.

“Your children are bastards are they not? Yet you still aspired to put them on the throne, and killed Ned Stark for trying to tell the truth. You are in no position to counsel me, you are weak. In fact, you asked a question, what more can the ghost of Lyanna Stark do to you? Well take a good look. She is right here, within me. Lyanna died giving birth to me. She named me Jaehaerys Targaryen, and I was hidden away. But the time has come to strike you down, and I will. A dragon takes what it wants.” He says firmly, pointed to Cersei.

“Leave us.” Tywin says strongly.

After Cersei gets over her shock, she starts to protest.

“Go back to Kings Landing. You will await my instructions and do nothing else. Now go.” Tywin says to Cersei. She storms out like a scolded child. Taking the soldiers with her. Tyrion leaves as well.

They mount their horses and ride away from the tent. Leaving the two most powerful men in Westeros alone, in the tent.

“You are more than you seem, more than Aerys or Rhaegar ever were. You might just live up to the name of those that come before you and you may have a legacy greater than mine. I had only conquered the Westerlands when I was your age. You will have the entire country, without having to wipe many houses from the map. But can you hold it?” Tywin asks.

“Legacy.” Jon scoffs. “I am related to the Mad King. He also killed my other grandfather and uncle. What kind of legacy is that? I have been told that I was someone else my entire life. My own name seems foreign to me. Even still, I am more than you will ever be.”

“What will you do then?” Tywin asks.

“I will spare your lousy family, they will become weak and powerless, much like you are at this moment. I much rather that than to kill them. Decisions will be made after I have a council, where the Seven Kingdoms will decide their monarch, but you are not long for this world.” He says sternly.

Tywin knows he is defeated. He never thought anything could happen to him, and that was his downfall. Brought down by a secret dragon, hidden for years.

“Write a message to the capital. Instruct the Lannister armies to remove the wildfire from the capital in its entirety, and have it taken to the Northern castles, and the Wall. We will use it to defend against the dead. That is the only thing you can do. I could have respected you once, but you ordered the deaths of my brother and sister.” He says sadly. “Tyrion, Davos.” He speaks loud to where they can hear him from outside the tent.

After a while, they come in to the tent. Tyrion looks conflicted, but neither him nor Davos voice an opinion. They are awaiting instruction.

Suddenly the sound of armor clanging interrupts them. Soldiers are surrounding the tent. The same ten soldiers from earlier. This is a setup. They are trying to capture him. They advance on the tent slowly, and carefully.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy did you? I knew you wanted me next, I should have known my own son would betray me. I am not that weak yet, to surrender to you. You lack the courage to do what is necessary and that is why you will fail. You should have killed me straight away.” Tywin announces.

“I’m not Joffrey, you Lannisters seem to think that murder is the answer to all your problems. I needed to see what you would do when your power and influence are taken from you. What are you then?” He replies.

Jon looks around intently, assessing the situation while soldiers are running in. “Now!” He says. Arrows start flying at the soldiers entering the tent. Two soldiers are shot full of arrows and die, one more is wounded.

Three soldiers rush Jon, with swords but he dodges them, keeping them in a line so that they cannot circle him. He headbutts one soldier and sends him into another, while the third one tries to surprise attack him. After he evades the strike, Blackfire goes into the soldier’s neck. Ghost is close now and is helping to defend him, knocking a soldier down before biting his neck. While Jon is battling the last soldier in the tent, Ghost silently kills another after creeping up behind him. Jon dispatches the last soldier in the tent, with his sword cutting through the armor and into his chest. Three more soldiers enter. Jon backs away to get a clearer scene of the battle. Jon and Ghost are close to each other defending against the three soldiers. When one of them advances, Jon cuts him down quickly with a stab in the torso. Ghost rips one apart when he gets behind Jon. The last one gets his arm grabbed by Ghost clamping down on him, allowing Jon to stick his sword through his helmet. Now only the wounded knight is left. He surrenders, throwing down his weapon. Ghost goes and mauls him.

As he looks outside of the tent, he can see that the Golden Company is starting to surround the area. It looks like about ten thousand men, half of them mounted knights. This was supposed to be Tywin's play, the Golden Company.

Jon calmly walks outside the tent and holds out Blackfyre, for the Golden Company to see. After the leaders of the Company, Strickland and Connington, bend the knee to Jon, the soldiers follow.

“Tywin Lannister is powerless! It is now time for a Lannister to pay his debts!”

Tywin is completely silent, he has been completely defeated. He marched an army to hide the reports of Lannister movements, but this boy had Blackfyre. This was not someone to be trifled with. He tried his last play, and it failed.

Tywin grabs a parchment and writes what was requested of him. Never have the Lannisters been this powerless. Even when Tywin knew he was outnumbered, he still thought he was powerful. That is not the case now, his tricks have come to an end.

The three of them read the letter together. After checking its validity, it’s time for Tywin. The charges are laid bare.

“Tywin Lannister, you stand accused of multiple conspiracies to murder, namely Elia Martell, Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen. How do you answer these charges?”

“I demand a trial by combat.” Tywin answers.

Jon, Tyrion, and Davos look at each other.

“You will have your trial by combat, it will commence in about a fortnight, enough time for each of the Seven Kingdoms to see.”

He nods to Tyrion and Davos.

They grab Tywin and place him in chains. He doesn’t fight back.

He turns back and speaks to Jon.

“You will go as mad eventually, such is the curse of the Targaryens. Your dreams and prophecies will bring your ruin. Not much difference between madness and greatness for your kind.” Tywin spits out.

“Says the person that let Joffrey run rampant, and supported Robert Baratheon for king. Your insults are as weak as your legacy.” Jon retorts.

As Davos takes the Old Lion away, all of the implications come flooding in. He will execute Tywin in front of all the Kingdoms. They all fear Tywin, but will he start his rule with fear? A little bit is nice, but he wants respect. It’s real now, it’s time to be Jaehaerys Targaryen. In about a fortnight, he will be King, yet he still feels like a bastard. Shake these thoughts away. Pull yourself together, he thinks.

Jon grabs scrolls and writes ravens to each of the Kingdoms. Invitations are sent to Dorne, The North and Riverlands, The Vale, The Reach, The Iron Islands, The Stormlands, and the Westerlands to a Council of the Seven Kingdoms, where he will stake his claim to the Iron Throne, for his family. It feels weird, but he also sends one to Daenerys, as he needs her by his side.

His thoughts have never been heavier…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that worked, I redid this one a few times trying to get the setup correct. Thanks for reading.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have things going on this week, may not get to post as often as I have been, but there will probably be a new chapter by Monday.

Jaime Lannister

Brienne is there with him in his tent, they are having breakfast together.

Everyone has been acting strange around them recently, since they have been spending most of their time together. Surely this is less strange than his relationship with Cersei isn’t it? The Northerners don’t like him, that’s for sure. Do they like anyone? They would probably dislike the Starks if they weren’t so entrenched in their history. Fuck the North. He’s here because he wants to follow a true King, something even his own sons are not. He hates to admit that, but it’s the truth.

Brienne is looking at him like she wants to say something, but it’s probably the subject that they have been avoiding. His death. Odd thing to say to someone. I guess this is how Jon Snow must feel, he reasons. Cersei was the death of him, and yet, some parts of him still miss her. It’s a terrible thought.

“Are we ever going to talk about what you seem to be thinking?” Brienne says.

“What’s that? That I like the way you handle that sausage?” Jame retorts.

She punches him in the shoulder.

“Not that, you ass.” She replies.

“Yes, I know, I’m an idiot. You don’t need to tell me that. I knew I was marching to my death. I just…you know…bravery comes with a bit of stupidity.” He says.

Slowly she begins to reply. She looks like she has thought long about what she will say.

“I love you, you know. I can’t seem to help it, maybe it’s just like you said. Bravery, stupidity, can’t have one without the other. But I need to know if this is…real.” She says.

“I..” He tries to speak but is unable. “I do love you, but I can’t seem to kill my love for her…”

“I knew who you were, but I would have you make a choice, Ser Jaime…” She says sadly.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to be a liar. Even more surprising is the fact that he has not gone back, even after he was released from chains. He notices that he hasn’t touched his food much. Too many mind racing thoughts…

Robb Stark enters the tent, flanked by Sansa. He doesn’t eye them with suspicion, he looks at them with more understanding that he would have thought.

“Tywin Lannister has been captured.” Robb announces.

He wants to hide his surprise, but to Jaime, he just heard the strangest words a person could ever hear.

Robb continues.

“There will be a council of the Seven Kingdoms, where my brother will likely become King.”

“My father?” He asks.

“Trial by combat.” Robb replies.

“His champion?” He asks.

“He asked for Sandor Glegane, but the only person that would fight for him is Ser Meryn Trant.”

After Robb mentions this, Jaime looks unsettled.

Brienne almost chokes on her food. Sansa looks angry when she hears that name.

He notices this, and realizes that Sansa got the news when he did. They trust him on the same level in the North as Sansa Stark? That brings a smile to his face. He’ll never understand the North.

“Robb, you should know that if the champion is Meryn Trant, then Arya will be the one to fight him.” Sansa.

“She told me already, about the list. It’s unsettling, but I will trust her to-“ Robb says but is cut off.

“He doesn’t have a chance.” Sansa states. Jaime and Brienne nod to this.

“I guess I’ll have to tell mother…” Robb says with a nervous look.

“I’ll do it, I could make myself useful for once.” Sansa states. Robb nods.

“With that, I take my leave Ser Jaime Lannister. You may have a chance to speak to your father before he dies, unlike I did.” Robb says with no emotion on his face.

Jaime just nods solemnly.

“Come along, we travel for Dragonstone.”

Margaery Tyrell

Olenna, Margaery, Randyll Tarly, Tormund and Mance are sitting around a table. Randyll is scowling at the Wildlings, but Margaery believes that is the way his face was made. Perhaps he doesn’t like that he is unable to do anything about his situation. No one likes to be powerless, but he is now, she reasons.

Tormund and Mance are basically Lords of the Reach at this point.

No one dares to oppose them, but they don’t ask for anything. They are the best Lords the Reach has ever seen. They have never been safer.

Margaery and Loras were not initially impressed with the Wildlings, but they eventually came to terms with it. She fed the kids and taught them to read and sow, Loras was able to hold his own with the fighters. They had earned the respect of the Free Folk, not something that many other Reach Lords could say.

“Tormund, tell me about this King, he seems impressive.” Margaery asks.

Tormund lets out a bellowing laugh.

“He is this tiny little pretty fucker, but he joined us for a time and became one of us. We are the roughest, meanest people that he had ever seen, and yet this pretty little crow, became our friend. He joined us again after he became Lord Commander and saved what was left of our people when the dead came for us. He fought beside us and then he died for us. None of you southerners ever gave a shit about us, but he did. We would have been wiped out by the dead, if not for him. No one takes him seriously at first, but he is the best man I have ever met, no offense, Mance.” Mance holds up his glass to Tormund at that. Tormund continues. “Just when you think he can’t be any crazier, the mad fucker kills a White Walker! After he died for us, he came back like some kind of god! Then when the dead swarmed Winterfell, he and that Dragon Queen of his flew on a Black and a Green dragon above us all, shooting flames at the dead! I thought I was seeing things. He doesn’t look like it, but he is crazier than me! I wanted to throw him from the top of the Wall when I met him, I bet that wouldn’t even kill him!”

They all laugh at Tormund, except Randyll. Tormund loves telling those stories. He has made sure that everyone in the Reach knows about this pretty dragon rider.

“No one is as crazy as you Tormund, but that’s why we keep you around. You said the Dragon Queen saved you didn’t she?” Mance asks.

“She did, we went out beyond the wall to capture a dead man to bring to the queen that fucks her brother, and one of her dragons died saving us! We had to fight that dead dragon again, it had blue flames!” Tormund relates.

“Please tell me you are not entertaining this nonsense.” Randyll Tarly states.

Tormund jumps out of his seat.

“You calling me a liar?” Tormund yells.

“You are clearly a damn fool, the only thing you have is your numbers. Otherwise, you’d be dead right now, you bunch of damn savages.”

Olenna gets out of her chair now.

“Tarly, what did you do to your oldest son?” Olenna questions.

“I sent him to the Wall to make him a man.” Randyll replies.

“You think just because you defeated Robert Baratheon once, that you are some great man?” Olenna scoffs.

“He told Tormund here that you threatened to kill him if he didn’t go. You are for more of a brainless savage than they are. I wanted to respect you, but no one that does that to his son deserves any respect. You are hearby relieved of your Lordship. One more word from you and I’ll have you-“ Olenna is speaking before Randyll interjects.

“Mace is the High Lord of the Reach, not you. You don’t command me.” Randyll quickly spits out.

Olenna nods to Tormund, she had her hand on his chest stopping him from thrashing Randyll but she lets go. Tormund tackles him before beating him bloody with his bare hands.

Nobody gives Randyll any sympathy. They all look on dispassionately at the situation and continue drinking their wine glasses. They do look up when Randyll starts to take out his weapon.

“Don’t.” Margaery says.

Randyll doesn’t listen. He jumps up quickly and unsheathes his weapon and before he can swing he has Tormund’s boot in his face. Tormund breaks his sword arm by stomping on it and beats him to death with his bare hands, not surprising any of the guests at the table.

Olenna ushers her servant in to clean up the body nonchalantly.

They go back to sitting at the table while they clean up the body.

“Margaery, be a dear and let Dickon know he is the new Lord of Horn Hill will you?” Olenna asks.

“Of course, grandmother.” she replies and gets up, hiking her skirts to step over the blood.

Tormund watches her leave with intrigue, he had thought that most southern lasses faint at the sight of blood, and that nobles didn’t approve of such violent activities.

“Careful Tormund, you are not the only people that know how to steal someone’s bed.” Olenna retorts after observing. Tormund and Mance glance at each other before laughing slightly.

“What shall we drink to?” Mance asks.

“To the new King of Westeros, of course, you oaf.” Olenna says with a smile.

“To the new King of Westeros!” They all yell while raising their glasses.

Margaery listens intently outside the window before going to do what was asked of her…

Missandei of Naath

“Hit me, dead girl, how can a dead girl serve a queen?” Arya mocks her.

She swings the light sword with quickness, but is met with strikes by this ruthless girl. She must admit though, that she’s excited.

“You don’t play fair, how am I supposed to hit you like this?” she says.

Missandei is blindfolded, trying to swing at Arya.

“Most people with eyes, do not see, dead girl. I am teaching you how to appreciate those beautiful eyes that you have.” Arya says as she kicks her to the ground.

She can feel the sweat on her face, she can smell the air around her. She brought food around just to taunt her. Smells of various cheeses and fruits, as well as roasted meats flood her senses. It threatens to make her weak, but as her queen has told her, they are her army of dragons. Daenerys even sneaks her food when Arya is starving her, to toughen her up. Just a bit of food, but enough to keep her strong. Now she can feel the strikes coming. Left shoulder, right thigh, lower abdomen, top of the head, she blocks them all. Time to be strong, she determines. Now, after concentrating on her senses, she can smell the leather armor of the girl in front of her, combined with the rust of the sparring sword.

“Missandei.” She whispers.

“What’s that dead girl?” Arya replies.

She sweeps her leg out under Arya and when she jumps over it, she lunges at her knocking her back slightly, marking the first time she has struck the wolf girl. Irri and Daenerys had gotten one or two small strikes against the girl, but not her. When she knocks her back, Arya starts clapping.

“Missandei of Naath is my name!” She yells at Arya.

Arya removes her blindfold.

“Good, very good.” Arya starts clapping loudly.

She looks up and spots Grey Worm looking intently, he starts clapping, but his face stays stoic, as always.

Now everyone starts clapping, soldiers, children, knights and sellswords.

She looks behind her and Daenerys has suddenly entered the training area, flanked by Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, all of whom are clapping with her. Her heart threatens to escape her body. Not once has she ever felt like a person, but now she has the support of all these people. It’s overwhelming to her.

Daenerys stops clapping and so does everyone else.

“I have an announcement.” Daenerys says.

Everyone gets silent. Will we be moving on from Yunkai, or will we go to liberate the rest of the slave cities? She is nervous about the prospects.

“Tywin Lannister has been captured.” She announces.

No one seems to know what that means other than Arya, Ser Jorah, and Ser Barristan. They look surprised.

“He asked for a trial by combat, and the only person that he could get was one Ser Meryn Trant.” Daenerys continues.

Arya is now looking up determinedly, she looks like her wolf when threatening someone.

“I’ll be the one to kill him.” Arya says.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, hear this, we sail for Westeros. Myself, Arya, Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah.” Daenerys says.

Now they are confused, what will the rest of them do without a queen to guide them?

“Missandei of Naath. You are hereby appointed my regent and heir, you will liberate slaver’s bay, and you will bring justice to those that believe that humans are property. I will return, but until I do, bend the knee to Missandei.” She says determinedly.

“Missandei, Missandei, Missandei!” the crowd is chanting.

They bend the knee to her. It appalls her, never has she felt so alive.

“I will bring honor to you name, your grace!” She yells out.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” she now looks toward the unsullied. “Keep her safe Grey Worm.” Daenerys says to him.

He nods. “This one will protect her with my life.” He beats his chest.

“Now come along Arya, Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name is going to need our help, isn’t he?” Daenerys asks.

She nods.

Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal fly around them excitedly.

“Time to sail to our futures, and…Home…” She says with tears in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I appreciate it.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last preparations before the council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite some time passed between the previous chapter and this one. My fic kind of uses time a little more loosely than should be considered realistic. My theory however, is that people don't exactly go to a fanfiction site to view 'realism.' Anyways...enjoy!

Robb Stark

Mother is angry and silent. Not a good combination.

She probably thinks Arya being a killer is all Jon’s fault.

Nobody ever made Arya do anything. Not once, in her life.

She is voicing her complaints as they walk into the doors of the dark, bleak castle of Dragonstone, with suspiciously red doors to contrast the otherwise black hue of the castle. Is this what Jon’s dreams look like? He wonders. Sansa keeps eyeing some of the freshly planted lemon trees with wonder. He supposes that they do improve the scene a little. This tiny island has become a place bustling with activity, and there are guards throughout, none many of whom he recognizes. Sansa explains to him the allegiances of the guards. They are impressed with how many regions Jon has control of. He laments the fact that his brother has more power than he ever dreamed of, but that he trusts and respects him. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton would have killed him, and his wife and soon to be born son. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is telling himself that Starks don’t belong so far in the south.

Dragonstone now seems like the new capital, the lords of every part of Westeros are here, waiting to find out what the new news is. Rumors abound every corner of the castle, from Cersei changing King Joffrey’s clothing and linens every day since he has been sick, to Tyrion Lannister abandoning his family, causing their surrender. Funnier still is that each one of these rumors helps Jon.

They are ushered in to a room with a map of westeros in all black stone. Jon is there standing over the map, alone after Ser Davos and Ser Allister leave the room. The markers on the map indicate that Jon is the new Aegon the conqueror. He doesn’t feel jealous, as he does not want the burden of so much power, but he can’t help but feel a small tinge of jealousy. At least he can tell his brother exactly what he thinks, and that has to count for something.

Jon smiles at them, but he knows that smile. Jon couldn’t be more nervous than he is now. He ushers them to sit.

No one decides to start the conversation, which is still strange. Anyone that can silence his mother and sister is a true king in his opinion. Not even his father could do that.

“Thank you for coming to Dragonstone. It was as dark here as my heart used to be…before I made the place more like…home…” He says with a grin.

“Isn’t Kings Landing your home now?” Sansa asks.

“I’ve found that nothing is home, nothing is good without the right people…or person…” Jon replies.

“Never have truer words been spoken.” Robb says.

His mother and Sansa don’t reply to this. He loves every second of them being placated.

“I like the lemon trees, it's a nice touch.” Sansa admits.

Jon scoffs. “It’s for Daenerys, you should know.”

Sansa looks everywhere but Jon’s face after that comment.

His mother finally gets the nerve to speak.

“I wanted to blame you for driving Arya to this, this, madness of being a killer. Sansa told me about her, what little she knows, anyway. As I think about it, I have to admit that she never listened to any one. She must have been the second coming of Lyanna Stark, that was the most headstrong woman I had ever seen. No wonder you two were so close to one another. I will accept whatever she decides for her life, and…I’m…Sorry…” She admits.

“Good for you.” Jon says.

“Jon, don’t be that way.” Sansa says.

“You know something that’s fucked up? I don’t recognize my own name. After the council everyone will call me ‘Your Grace,’ ‘King Jaehaerys,’ or some other wolf dragon nonsense. But when I look in the mirror, I still see a damn bastard. You have some responsibility in that. So you are telling me you are sorry for what exactly? Sorry that I was born, that I looked more like a Stark than your children do? Sorry that I am not intimidated by you, or sorry that I haven’t considered taking your head? Which is it?” Jon asks the both of them.

No one says a word. None of them look at Jon for a while, until Robb decides to look him straight in the eyes.

“You already sound like a king, I hate it. Go back to the Wall.” He japes.

Jon chuckles at that. He is happy that he can still make his brother smile.

“Thanks Robb, I needed that.” Jon replies.

“There is nothing that I can say that will make what I did to you right.” His mother says.

“Seems like a good idea to stop talking then.” Jon says in return.

His mother and sister stand up out of their chairs and get ready to leave the two brothers together to talk. They don’t admit it, but they don’t really have much reason to be here, Robb is the Lord of Winterfell and the two of them are nothing, really. Mother comes over and holds out her hand to shake. Jon stares at her hand for a short time, and then finally takes it. Sansa hugs him lightly, and his expression does not change.

“Being a king starts at home you know, and I can’t afford to be at odds with you.” Sansa says. Jon just nods.

Now they are heading for the door. Jon starts speaking to the two women on their way out and they stop and turn around to listen.

“Two things I ask of you both.” Jon says sternly. they nods. “First, take care of Bran and Rickon, and be careful what you ask Bran, Lady Stark, he may tell you some things that will turn you inside out. Lastly, speak to your Tully family and make sure that they don’t make fools of themselves, especially the one called Edmure. I am not some weak boy that will so easily listen to the ramblings of a fool.”

“Well said, I take my leave now, your grace.” They both bow and leave the war room.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Robb says while pouring himself some ale. Jon has a mug already, but hasn’t touched it yet. He can’t say that he blames him. Kings rarely get time to relax, and he had only been king of the north. Now he remembers that he has to have this dreadful conversation about the state of the Northern Lords...

“How was the meeting with the Lords?” Jon asks.

“Well, you know how the Northerners are…they were saying that they don’t trust you, and then they don’t trust me. I don’t think they trust themselves, really.” He says with a slight chuckle. “They didn’t know what to think about you, since you’re a Targaryen and a Stark, at first they were saying that you could turn out just as crazy as the Mad King, but then they couldn’t really say that because you are Stark too. Then they brought up how you helped to save them from the Lannisters, and the dead man finally helped to persuade them…” He says while looking away.

“Robb, tell me the truth.” Jon calls him out.

“We got drunk and brawled, then we came to an understanding after me and Greywind put them on their backs and bloodied them a bit.” He admits.

“And?” Jon asks him to continue.

“All hail king Jaehaerys, third of his name!” Robb takes off his shirt and shows Jon his bruised body.

“That’s more like it, brother.” Jon says.

They laugh until their torsos hurt.

Maester Aemon

He is the castellan of Dragonstone again.

The last time he had been here had been ages ago. He was a boy then, and not a old bag of bones.

This time is different, he has a purpose now, and he can feel it in his old pale skin. Liars are all over the castle. They smell like liar, and he can hear the pitch of their voices. The other odd thing is that he can feel an odd sense of warmth, not unlike the one that Jon Snow brought with him to the wall. This one is different though. Like a flame washing over him, a dream that he can’t remember. Just warmth flooding his body. Not unlike a campfire or hearth, but he only barely felt those. He wonders if death is coming for him, but it doesn’t smell like death, something he has seen many times at the Wall.

Everyone on the island glances over him without much thought, and just walk past him. That suits him just fine. They think that because he is blind, that they can take him lightly. He has the lay of the land, and the High Lords of Westeros always have thought too much of themselves. Time for the dragons to return, and he would help in any way he could. Something was odd about the Baratheon camp, they seem to be feigning words with all the lords, even more than the Lannisters in attendance, the Greyjoy camp is quiet and that is not like them. He is investigating them, but then something pulls him to go outside. It’s almost like a torch in a dark tunnel.

“Ships incoming!” A soldier shouts, he is working his way outside, cursing his feeble body for not bringing him faster, by the time he reaches the beaches, the ships have long disembarked. The warmth that fills his body is greater than any he has ever felt. He can feel it from the tip of his head all the way to his toes. What is this feeling? His questions are answered when three dragons swirl around his body, nuzzling and lightly pawing him. He cannot help the smile that is now plastered on his face. He can hear breathing of several people and one is much heavier and faster than the others. He Can’t bring himself to care though, the dreams that have haunted him for many years are now coming to life inside of his mind. Never was there a time where he was happier. Soft footsteps approach him, and he knows that this person is not afraid of the dragons.

“One does not need his eyes to know that the most beautiful woman to grace this world, stands before me.” He says with the biggest smile he ever knew he could have.

“You must be-“ She stammers out.

“My, my, even your voice, you sound like, a voice that I have not heard in many years...” Tears threaten to flow from his eyes. He can’t stop them. “I can see your beautiful face, standing before me, like the sun shining after a rainstorm, tell me dear, what is your name?”

“Daenerys…” She says softly.

“I don’t know if you are aware, but all of this work, all of this pain…was so that the dragons could fly again.” He says while Viserion is nudging at his shoulder.

She doesn’t respond, but he can hear her breathing intensify. She runs up to him now and hugs him.

“I am so glad I am not alone, I thank you for this, uncle, but what shall I call you?”

“I’m afraid that if you call me uncle maester then my heart may burst. But you may call me what you please, my dear. Aemon is the name I was given, I am no dragonknight as you may well know. That honor belongs to the new King, I’m afraid.” He says, still with a bright smile.

One of the dragons takes off after a long while of him introducing himself to Aemon. The other two are still purring around him, with one being more attentive to the other.

“Viserion is the one that is nuzzling you so much, Drogon is the other still flying around you, Rhaegal…is the one that just took off…towards the King I presume.” She says.

“You have given me…more than I ever wanted in several lifetimes, in just a few minutes…you are remarkable, Daenerys the dreamer.” He says.

“How do you know about the dreams?” She says through elevated breathing.

“We all have had them. Every single Targaryen that I have known. Shadows with wings, flames with voices, glimpses of falsehoods and truths…they can drive you mad if you are not careful. Our house words should be Fire and dreams.” He states with a serious tone.

He can hear her gulp with fear, but her breathing subsides after a time.

“Are you ready for what comes next, my dear?” He asks.

“I can only hope so, uncle Aemon.” She says with a low tone of voice.

“You listen well child, you will impose your will on these stubborn lords and you will teach them the difference between dragons and sheep. Do no harm to the innocent, but there will always be those that hate you for who you are, or some perceived slight based off of the things that your father did. But you are not him, as I can tell. Do not run so fast that you always take flight, there is a time to fly and a time to walk. Know the difference and it will serve you well. Do you understand?” He asks.

“I do.” She says.

Daenerys Targaryen

Once Rhaegal had made it to the castle, lots of activity started to rustle on the island. A soldier now comes running down the stairs towards them.

“Commencing the Great Council of the Seven Kingdoms. This way, my Lords and Ladies, we are instructed to wait on your arrival, and subsequently, a trial by combat for one Tywin Lannister.” The soldier announces.

“Is there an Arya Stark among you?” The soldier asks.

“Right here my good Ser.” She says from behind him, nearly scaring him out of his armor.

“You’re the champion to fight a Kingsguard, are you sure?” The soldier asks her.

She points his own sword right at him and hands it back to him.

“I don’t think you are in much of a position to be questioning me, soldier, just follow your orders.” She retorts.

The soldier doesn’t know what to make of this and they can see a bead of sweat drop down his face from under his helmet. They all lightly chuckle at the frightened soldier running back up the stairs.

As they make their way into the castle she spots Rhaegal and Jon, no Jaehaerys Targaryen, looking every bit a king, but looking out towards the water, but then when he finally spots her, he smiles and has eyes for only her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovely readers.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Council of the Seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this turned out well, it seems a little...convoluted. I just completely made up some stuff.

Jaehaerys Targaryen

It’s difficult not to look at her. This throne is hers, really. I’m just using it for now, he thinks. Here and now he is the spectacle, and it’s difficult to imagine.

Lords from every Kingdom are here, for him. It’s a strange thought, really. Some of them have scowls, and some of them look at him with intrigue. Some with lust, but that is not his concern at the moment.

The Seven representatives of the kingdoms are here with their own chairs. Stannis Baratheon, Robin Arryn, Doran Martell, Olenna Tyrell, Balon Greyjoy, Robb Stark, and Kevan Lannister all have seats at the table. They have others accompanying them, namely their families, but the council has chosen only one figurehead to speak. It feels strange to be this powerful, but he’s a bastard no longer.

Stannis brought his wife Selyse with him and and Melisandre, as if he needed more reason to not be taken seriously. Robin Arryn brought Yohn Royce and Harold Hardyng. Doran Martell brought Oberyn and Arianne Martell. Olenna Tyrell brought Tormund Giantsbane and Margaery Tyrell with her. Balon Greyjoy brought Yara Greyjoy and Dagmer Cleftjaw with him. Robb is accompanied by a visibly pregnant Talisa and the Blackfish, Brynden Tully. Kevan Lannister brought Jaime and Cersei with him. He had to bring Cersei, since she was acting queen.

Also present are the High Septon, Beric Dondarrion, Jeor Mormont, Tywin Lannister, chained and detained, Ser Alister Thorne, Ser Davos Seaworth, Daenerys Targaryen, Ser Barristan Selmy, Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark, and Ser Jorah Mormont. 

The guests, and other Lords and Ladies are ushered to sit, there are chairs prepared for on each side of the wall, for observing the event. Tyrion Lannister and Maester Aemon were chosen to make records of the rare occasion.

He looks to Ser Davos, who steps forward and commences the event.

“We are here today, my Lords and Ladies, to determine the future of Westeros, and if applicable, crown a new King.”

The High Septon now steps forward. “This is preposterous, the King is sick, you mean to take advantage of his moment of weakness?” The High Septon accuses.

“Joffrey is dead.” Jon says.

“That’s not…we hadn’t been informed…about…how could you know that?” The High Septon asks clumsily.

“Ser Allister.” Jon says.

Ser Allister Thorne brings forth the dead body of Joffrey, with newly changed clothes, but with sword marks on his head. He places the body, heavily restrained, directly on the head table. The body looks heavily deteriorated, the only indication that is was ever Joffrey is the hair, some of which is still intact and the way the Lannisters keep staring at it. The body is held back by chains and metal arm and leg restraints, so that it cannot move freely. Gasps are heard throughout the hall by several lords and ladies, while the Lannisters are shocked. They didn’t know that he had the body. Tyrion had arranged to get the body brought here and no one was the wiser. The Imp can be useful sometimes.

No one is clear on what to say, but several people in attendance, namely, Olenna, Doran, and Robb don’t look surprised. Stannis hasn’t stopped scowling since he arrived, but Robin Arryn is oddly cheerful, and Balon Greyjoy looks like he just saw the Drowned God. Kevan Lannister is neither surprised, nor happy, he just observes the body with disdain.

“What in the name of the Seven? This is madness, how can this man be…what is this?” The High Septon speaks.

“They live beyond the Wall, and there are more of them than there are of us.” The mood turns solemn. “They come with a mist of snow and ice, colder than any winter you have ever experienced. You will see people and animals that look like they were torn apart. You will see children, that never got the chance to see a life of their own. But the real thing that they do to you is that they make you question what it is to be human. Sometimes that may make you hesitate to strike, and in that moment they will swarm you like locusts. They were people, once, but no longer. You will question whether you can ever win a battle against so many of them, but the fire of life burns out death.”

No one questions him any more, he has everyone’s attention at this point. Now he feels like a king, but it still feels odd to him. Everyone in the room is quiet with contemplation. He points back to the still moving body of Joffrey.

“No one chose to warn you about the dangers seeking to destroy us all. The Lannisters lied to you, he has been dead for some time. Take a good look at your King.” Jon says sternly.

“Now, as to the other reasons why we are here. There are several, actually.” He takes Blackfyre out and stabs Joffrey, and he lets out a high pitched squeal and shrieks like a banshee, then the light in those glowing blue eyes goes out.

“First we are going to have your vote for the Iron Throne, I hearby stake my claim to the throne. For I am Jaehaerys Targaryen, the son of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and the Lady Lyanna Stark. Your former king was not a Baratheon, but a Lannister born of Jaime and Cersei. The Lannisters have been lying to you all for years.”

Cersei starts shouting at them. “You will pay for this!”

Now that everyone is listening to him, he uses that moment and now ushers over Ser Allister, and whispers in his ear. Another chair is added to the table, and Ser Allister goes and brings over Daenerys to his side. She is apprehensive, but she resigns herself after looking around for a while. She sits beside him, but keeps looking towards him with nervousness.

“I ask that each of you vote, for a new King to sit the Iron Throne, and the Queen I choose, if you will. The dragons have returned, my Lords and Ladies.”

The High Septon doesn’t know what to make of this. Finally he gets up and paces around the room, before coming back and speaking, “This is…not right…the Seven don’t recognize the Old Gods of the North…the Seven is the real faith in this country!” He states with resolve.

“Do shut up. No one is trying to take your precious faith. What did your Seven do to prevent Joffrey from turning into one of those things?” Olenna says.

“Not a good idea to insult half of the Seven Kingdoms there, Septon.” Robb states.

“You have a follower of the Lord of Light here with you at this very table, a man of Drowned God is sitting right there next to you. Those lions that you tied yourself to, clearly worship Gold above all. Don’t tell me you have a problem with other faiths. I offer freedom of religion, as long is it does not harm another, Septon.” Jon replies.

Stannis and Balon just scowl at the Septon and his ways.

“Dragons answer to neither gods nor men.” Daenerys says. Drogon is flying around and lands on her shoulder after she says this, then he roars at the Septon.

The High Septon now goes to sit and decides to not press further.

Ser Davos now steps forward looking around the table. “I would have your votes, my lords.”

“Aye.” Robb Stark says.

“Nay.” Stannis Baratheon says.

“Aye.” Olenna Tyrell says.

“Aye.” Robin Arryn says.

“Aye.” Doran Martell says.

“Nay.” Balon Greyjoy says.

Kevan Lannister doesn’t answer immediately, he looks afraid, but then he looks over to Tywin, and then Jaime, and they both nod to him.

“Aye.” Kevan says.

He now looks around and sees approval on most faces in the room. Still an odd thing to see. He looks over to the two that voted against him and decides to let them speak.

“Before we continue, Stannis, Balon, state your piece.”

“Ned Stark sent me a letter, claiming that I was the heir to the throne, not you. Why should Westeros bend the knee to a boy that knows nothing of the land he wants to rule?” Stannis states.

“Because he is more king than someone that would use sorcery to murder his own brother and try to burn his own daughter, along with several others that don’t believe in your Lord of Light.” Davos replies.

Stannis does not reply to this and leaves the table, fuming with disdain.

“The Iron Islands do not want the yoke of King’s Landing around our necks, we want to be free. Those dead men cannot sail to our shores and if they do, we will handle them. We do not need you, boy dragon.” Balon states.

“The only thing worse than that dead man is a Greyjoy, that’s why I kept Theon alive, you aren’t even worth killing. I heard you and yours tried to raid the Reach recently. How did that turn out?” Jon asks with a grin.

“You were the one that let the Wildlings into the reach? They will raid and ravage every keep in Westeros.” Balon protests.

“What have your people been doing for the last twenty years?” Jon retorts.

“Return my son to me, and I may consider changing my vote.” Balon says.

“Sansa.” Jon speaks out.

She runs out of the chamber with the Hound in tow.

Some commotion is heard throughout the chamber.

The two of them return with Theon, not bound or chained, surprising Balon.

“Theon.” Jon says.

“Your Grace,” Theon speaks out in reply.

“Do you have any desire to go back to the Iron Islands?” Jon says.

“No, your grace. I love Yara, but my father is a vile man. He tried to turn me into another version himself, I want nothing to do with him.” Theon admits.

Balon looks at Yara, she shrugs at him and now Balon gets up and goes over to Theon. Jon can’t make out what they are saying to each other, but it looks like Balon chastises him over the fancy squid armor he is wearing, since he didn’t pay the iron price for it, and it has a small direwolf imprint on it. Finally, after some commotion and argument, Theon punches his father in the face, knocking him back and bloodying his face. He goes back to Theon with anger, and prepared to strike him, but not before he is grabbed by the Hound and Ser Allister. He looks back to Theon once more, and then puts his head down. Finally he stops resisting and goes back to sit down.

“I have heard your poorly made cases, but they are not enough to sway anyone. Unless anyone has something to say, we are finished here.” Jon says.

There is a long silence, then whispers follow. Cersei seems to be protesting the most but Jaime speaks to her and calms her down some. She looks like she wants to tear Brienne’s eyes out as she observes them, but there’s not many people that could do that.

Ser Davos speaks now. “We have five yes votes and two no votes. By that count, the vote is clear, we have a new king.”

He pulls out a gold crown with three rubies, the one in the middle larger than the other two. The top of the crown is a dragon facing a wolf. Daenerys stands and grabs the crown, shocking both him and Ser Davos.

She speaks in a loud voice. “I now proclaim Jaehaerys of houses Targaryen and Stark, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Dreams do come true.” She whispers in his ear.

He looks back and nods to Ser Davos, he pulls out Rhaella’s crown, the three spikes at the top changed a bit to reflect dragons flying in the sky. It has three deep blue sapphires on its front. Davos places it on her head. She is stunned, but she eventually she recovers. 

“All hail Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name, the wolf dragonknight!” She exclaims.

One could probably hear the cheers in Essos.

After a long while of cheering. He stands, and everyone with him.

He raises his hand and everyone gets silent, that’s going to take some getting used to.

“Tomorrow, at midday, there will be a Trial by Combat for Tywin Lannister, to determine his guilt or innocence for the conspiracy to murder Elia Martell, and her children Aegon and Rhaenys.” He announces.

“It will take place here at Dragonstone.” He says soundly.

Jaime speaks up, “When will you go to Kings Landing, your grace?”

“I’ll not step foot in the capital while it has so much wildfire underneath all the major thoroughfares, I don’t underestimate what Cersei can do.” He says pointedly.

They are all shocked by the implications of that, but he decided he needed to be the one to say it. The Lannister’s lies to them about Joffrey and the dead, so it makes sense that they would not admit to what they were removing from the capital.

“Very wise, your grace.” Sansa says.

“Now then, let us celebrate the forging of a new Kingdom, just as a true knight’s sword, one that is just and cuts through all manner of deception and evil intentions. Today we fly, not as just men that follow orders, but as dragons, not seen for hundreds of years!” He announces.

The room is booming with cheers.

Now he turns to Daenerys, breathing heavily and looking into his eyes attentively. He grabs her hand and they leave the room together. 

“Your body, it calls out to me...” he says to her.

He takes her into the Lords chambers, the rooms where their ancestors have been born and conceived for many years, the rooms where conquerers and ancient legends formed a great dynasty, one that would be reborn on this day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast for the new monarchs. Trial by combat.

Daenerys Targaryen

Home.

Home? Does any one know what that means? A place, stationary in practice that welcomes you when you return to it? Could it be…that the dreams have led to this place, where she was born?

She opens her eyes at this thought. The chambers are filled with love and lust, and smell like it as well.

Neither one of them are clothed, but their crowns still remain. The thought brings a smile to her face. Sleep eluded them for the most part, but there was some sleep after all.

Soreness has come over her as well, but she is a dragon, not to be deterred by a little pain. She also has gone through much bizarre training, so she is better at recovering than one would expect.

He is staring right at her when she decides to look at him, with the look of love, threatening to tear her heart out.

He rises, she doesn’t know what came over her when she proclaimed him King, was it a dream? Was it some sort of calling for her to do that? She supposes that it was fire, lit in the darkness of her heart, burning through all of the torture that she had to endure. Now she had everything that she wanted, delivered to her by her last remaining family. She didn’t know she could be this…happy, but the red doors and the lemon trees that she spotted were a good step in the right direction.

How could this one man do this to her? He’s a King for a reason, she reconciles.

“Feels odd, doesn’t it?” Jaehaerys asks.

She nods.

“I’d like you to join me for breakfast, if you will.” He says.

“Of course, Jaehaerys Targaryen. You don’t refuse a king.” She says with a bright and sly smile.

“I’m going to behead Tywin Lannister today…I will finally have justice for Aegon and Rhaenys.” He says sadly.

She grabs his head and lays it on her chest. They lay there together for quite some time, in silence. This, to her, means far more than the sex. They can tell each other how it feels to be the last of their kind. It’s an odd feeling, one that threatens to consume her. She comes back to the present and starts fondling him, since discovering their love for each other after a vigorous night of coupling.

“Dany…” He says and makes her heart race again.

A knock at the door.

“Ser Davos, you don’t want to die do you?” He says.

“It’s Robb, it’s time, Your Grace.”

An animal, a wolf is scratching at the door as well.

“Time to go be a king, your grace.” She makes fun of him, but hasn’t stopped fondling him.

“Give me a…minute…or twenty….brother…” He clumsily makes out.

“Fine, fine. Just…don’t make us wait to long…” Robb states with his voice getting farther away.

He climbs over and thrusts into her, breaking her resolve, and making her his yet again. She could get used to this…after a while of screaming and calling out to all the Gods that she didn’t know she knew the names of, they get up and bathe quickly, before getting dressed as the new monarchs of the Seven Kingdoms. They are dressed in opposite styles, a red dress with black accents and a black cape draped to the side for her. A black tunic with red accents and a red cape for him. They both have silver chain links across their chests with a three headed dragon charm at the collar, but he also has a direwolf one the other side of his collar. It’s enough to make her lick her lips at the sight of him. Women will be clamoring for him, but she is not the jealous type. Although it would be glorious to watch Drogon claw at some unsuspecting harlot, she reasons.

“I wanted to wait, until we marry, but I needed to give you a proper incentive, Queen Daenerys.” He says into her ear on the way out.

“You have have given me much to think on, I will see what I can do, King Jaehaerys.” She says to him in return with a sly grin.

They walk out to the dining area and have breakfast with the new King’s family. Everyone had been waiting on them, but when you are important enough, wait they will. It had not been extraordinarily long though. Also, no one dared to question him, looks like his rule is cemented by love, and respect.

“Your Grace,” everyone mentions to them. They had made it clear that she was to be the Queen beside him, but that did not stop the women from looking his way, little did they know he is not the whoring Robert Baratheon.

Food is brought to them and spread out in a feast of all the regions of the Kingdoms. Eggs and breads, bacon, sausages, fish, potatoes, cheeses from every region in Westeros, cakes of lemon and several other fruits, and wines and ales from every region, even some from Essos. She sniffs around curiously, searching around for the poisons that she was trained to identify, she even spots Arya doing the same from across the room.

The white wolf of the Kings is sticking by her side, she must obviously smell like him but the wolf doesn’t stray far from her and the King.

“Ghost is his name.” He says to her.

“He is beautiful.” She replies.

“He thinks the same of you. He is to me just like Rhaegal, the way Drogon is to you.” He replies.

Strange thought, that these animals, that others would consider savage beasts are just like family to them.

They are shown to the head table, where Talisa and Robb are standing, waiting for them.

Robb runs up and hugs her, she feels overwhelmed by this. She had heard so much about one of the people that her King admires. Talisa hugs her as well, she can feel the slight firmness of her belly, and she blushes when she puts her hand on it.

“Nice to meet you Robb, and Talisa. It’s not often that I meet people that don’t look at me with disdain.” She says.

They smile at her. “You’ll get none from us, Jon, er, His Grace loves you, so you are now one of us.” Robb states.

Catelyn Stark and Sansa are there, but they don’t say much. They are standing at another table. She sees traces of fear, apprehension, disdain, and feign reverence. Going to have to watch those two then…she realizes. They bow at her, and then they change their looks when Arya speaks to them. It was a good thing that they spent time together then, it would be poor etiquette to murder two women on such a joyous occasion. The thought gives her a smile, and Arya gives her a knowing look. She goes back to conversing with Robb and Talisa. She tries to concentrate on what they are saying, but the conversation about the North is mostly boring, outside of the mention of the direwolves and the king’s younger years. Talisa, being from Volantis sparks her interest. She wonders if they might go to Essos together one day and explore the vast regions across the narrow sea. Her attention keeps shifting to the King though, and his to her. It has to be one of the greatest things she has ever experienced. Both of them are famished and are eating as if they never ate before. Her thoughts are continuing to race, but are interrupted by Ser Davos running in to the chamber and whispering in the Kings ear.

“It’s time.” The King announces.

Horns and trumpets start to blow.

They make their way out to the newly erected courtyard, with the high table reserved for them. The king is sat next to her, with Robb and Oberyn on his side. Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan are by her side, scanning the event and eyeing the king with interest.

Ser Jorah has been conversing with his father, he looks very nervous, but his father did not shun him as he expected.

Ser Barristan is conversing with the King, telling him all about Rhaegar and what he knew about him.

The King now kicks off the event.

“The trial by combat for Lord Tywin Lannister will begin now. He shall receive his verdict after the end of this battle. Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard against Arya Stark, a girl of twelve, but more fierce than any wolf you have ever seen. She personally requested to be the champion.”

Gasps of awe are heard at this announcement. No one seems overly concerned though, but a few girls look surprised. The truth is that this may not even be a contest, that girl is so wild.

He raises his hand high, and then lowers it. Horns blow to commence the event. They all take a seat after the new King and Queen and the King then puts his hand on her ass. She doesn’t mind this in the slightest.

Jaime Lannister

He got stuck sitting next to Cersei. He’s thinking on how she must have probably killed whom ever was supposed to sit in that seat next to him. Maybe she wanted some shoulder to cry on when father is beheaded, but the audience doesn’t know how good of a fighter Arya Stark is, which is frightening, actually. She killed more of the dead than anyone other than the dragons, as well as the Night King himself, and he was on the front lines.

Ser Meryn comes out swinging wildly, he has a look on his face like he is enjoying this. Trying to hurt a little girl, quite sick.But he remembers how he pushed Bran out of the window when he was ten. Sickening thought, but he is not that man anymore.

Arya is dodging each strike effortlessly, she even seems to be scanning the crowd. Is she trying to gauge the reactions? Odd little girl...

“She looks like Lyanna Stark doesn’t she? She was stupid to try to take on a Kingsguard. Father may be absolved of his crimes. Maybe that Targaryen King has his coin land on madness. We can take him can’t we Jaime?” Cersei says to him a little louder than he’d hoped. He can’t help but look at her cleavage when she leans over to him.

He’s obviously still attracted to Cersei, and perhaps the worst thing is that neither the King nor Queen would judge him. Maybe it was the fact that it was so forbidden that made it so much better? She doesn’t know that this battle was won the moment it started, but he’ll not tell her that.

He nods to her as he’s looking at the battle continue. He is looking at the sides of the combatants and they both look calculating, but Ser Meryn looks like he wants blood. You picked the wrong battle, buddy.

“That little bitch escaped Kings Landing when Ned Stark was captured, I had been looking for her for some time. Maybe she learned a thing or two, since she hasn’t died yet?” Cersei says.

If only she knew the half of it.

“She’s quick, that’s for sure.” Jaime says in reply to Cersei.

She continues dodging Ser Meryn easily, and only he is sweating, he’s getting tired. She pulls a feint sword strike on him and when he reacts too quickly, she stabs him in his non sword arm. He jumps back quickly, but she doesn’t capitalize on it. Odd, is she toying with him? Of course she is.

They move around in circles to where Ser Meryn is facing her with his back to the Lannister Twins. Arya is facing them. She looks as frightening as he remembered she was, but she hasn’t gone for the kill, why? Ser Meryn knows he’s getting tired now and he tries to throw a few punches at her, but she moves out of the way each time. This is getting tiresome...then Ser Meryn finally tries to trip her with a leg sweep, and she spins backwards to miss falling over, she smiles brightly and Ser Meryn lands his first blow, a kick to the girls chest. She flies backwards with some velocity and smiles again like she’s happy. She’s a mad little thing. Someone should have told her that Ser Meryn doesn’t fight fair, as he grabs some dirt and throws it in her eyes. Now she can’t see, but she doesn’t even pretend to be in pain. What kind of little girl is this?

Cersei yells out excited, “he’s got her, he’s got her!”

Ser Meryn rushes her, and she dodges just like she had been from the beginning. She stabs his sword hand, still unseeing and knocks his sword out of his hand, to the surprise of the crowd. It seems like she wanted this...but only a few people in attendance would know that. How can she do that?

Ser Meryn goes for his sword on the ground and picks it back up painfully, and she pulls out three very sharp daggers. She looks serious now, for the first time today. She throws the three of them, back to back, and with lightning fast quickness. He blinks out of fear hoping one doesn’t accidentally land his way.

They were too fast for him to even see and he’s looking to find where they landed.

The crowds gasps.

Ser Meryn is falling back, with a dagger sticking out of the side of his sword arm’s shoulder, that arm is paralyzed now and he’s whimpering like a lost puppy. As he looks closer, he’s grabbing at his neck. There’s a dagger there too. This girl landed two daggers in this man with no eyes? One that paralyzed his sword arm and another that stuck in his neck? This is madness!

Wait...where did the third one go...? He looks around and finds nothing, where...? He now remembers that Cersei hadn’t said anything in a while, maybe she’s shocked...her head lands on his shoulder and he feels moisture, he feels the wet spot and looks at his hand and is stunned by the sight of his red fingertips. It’s fresh blood. He lifts her head up and she’s gasping and choking in front of him, the third dagger is hanging out of her neck. He’s not a Maester, but he knows it’s not a good idea to take it out. She’s gasping for him, and he can’t do anything but watch as her face turns red...then blue...then purple...she passes out on him, laying in his lap...she’s probably going to die...

“I need a Maester, a Maester!” He yells as a few men come running towards them and take Cersei away. He follows close behind and keeps looking at the match.

“Do you yield?” He hears Arya say. She has a large grin on her face. She knew what she was doing.

“Never, you bitch.” Ser Meryn says.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say." Arya replies. She cuts him a few times, and she’s enjoying it, each cut of hers is driving him towards the cliff. He’s scared for his life now, as he should be. She could kill him at any moment but she is carving him like a wooden desk. She is enjoying every second of it. The crowd is watching with pure silence and wonder.

“Do you yield? Last chance, one that you don’t even deserve.” She asks him.

He is unable to look away, the Maester is tending to Cersei but there is nothing that he can do. He should care more, but he can’t look away from the battle.

Ser Meryn tries to grab her hand and throw her off the cliff but she slices him again. He looks like a sliced mutton chop at this point, he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s lost. Now the rocks off of the cliff of Dragonstone are starting to give way and he starts slipping. He grabs at her over and over, but she stabs him each time.Now she kicks him in the balls and he just falls back off ofthe cliff...his body doesn’t hit the water before the three dragons rip him out of his gold armor and eat him after charring the flesh.

So ends the story of Ser Meryn Trant, and as such, his father’s life is forfeit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had a little trouble with this one, but here it is.

Sansa Stark

Watching Cersei die is just as satisfying as she thought it would be. Arya, Jaime, Tommen, Myrcella, Lancel, and Kevan are there watching her slowly die.

Arya stuck the dagger in her neck, and the Maester is explaining that if the dagger is removed, then she will die instantly. It is stuck in an artery. She can’t speak, and she can barely breathe. Her face is purple and getting worse by the second.

“Wolfsbane poison this is. I would say someone wanted her to suffer, but this was clearly a freak accident. No one could have done this on purpose.” The Maester announces.

Of course Arya would use a poison called Wolfsbane. She looks over to Arya and she just shrugs.

“Can you cure it?” Myrcella asked.

“Well, the real problem is that the dagger can’t be removed, we can’t remove the source of the poison so trying to give her the counteragent would be pointless. Regardless, the poison has made its way to her brain since it was inserted into her neck.” The Maester explains.

Cersei’s eyes are overflowing with tears. So much so that they may drown her.

Sansa doesn’t feel bad for Cersei at all, but she does feel awkward that her children are losing their mother. Tommen and Myrcella are holding her hand, sadly. Jaime is dumbfounded, he’s not sure on what to do. All the Lannisters seem to be afraid of Arya, as they should be. The thought gives a smile to her face. If a freak accident is what they call it, then they don’t know her sister. They don’t say a word to her.

They are whispering in Cersei’s ear, probably last words or telling her that they love her. Someone has to love her, and she probably was not a bad mother, she reasons. Even people like her have some things going for them.

“We have heard from reliable sources, that she was making plans to overthrow the new King.” Kevan says with great disdain. “Foolish Woman.”

The other Lannisters appear shocked, save Jaime.

“I’m done with this family, I will be renouncing my name and joining the Faith.” Lancel says with sadness.

Kevan reaches out to him, but he walks away stubbornly.

Queen Daenerys enters the room, looking around with curiosity.

She doesn’t know how to feel about that, she was so sure that this woman was evil, and yet here she is cheering on a woman’s death.

“Tommen, Myrcella, it’s time for you to go.” Jaime says.

They protest against this, clamoring to stay, but Kevan leads them away. Now it’s just Jaime and the three women.

“You are enjoying this aren’t you?” Jaime says to them.

“She did try to orchestrate the downfall of my house after all, and keep me as a hostage.” Sansa replies.

Arya doesn’t say a word. She slowly walks up to Cersei with a dagger in her hand. “Shall we put her out of her misery? She will die before the sun goes down.”

Daenerys nods, it was one of the things that they agreed on. They have all the same enemies, and some of the same friends, why did she have to hate her so? Power, she supposes, which is why now she has none. Was her mother like this with Jon? She hates that it’s probably true.

“I’ll do it.” Jaime says.

No one says anything. Cersei just looks at him with her tears still overflowing, she finally gives a tiny nod. She had been staring at the other women in the room, but unable to speak.

Jaime wraps his hand around her pale, white throat. He squeezes, and looks away. Her body starts seizing and convulsing, before it finally stops moving. He kisses her forehead and then walks out of the room.

She’s finally dead.

Oberyn Martell

It’s time.

The day that he has waited so long for is here.

He would follow this King to the end of the world.

It’s funny, because he first saw this Jon Snow as a simple Northman, but that was his great advantage. No one saw the dragon in him.

After he and Ellaria told the new Targaryen King a few things…he wasn’t really bashful about his beautiful Queen anymore. Shame is for the weak minded, to him and the Dornish ways. There is no reason to be afraid of how beautiful you are. Especially for a King and Queen. From the look on his face after his night with the Queen, the King seems to have taken his advice.

“Robb, Oberyn, place Tywin on the block.” The King orders. Never has he gotten orders that he would have rather followed. The Lords and Ladies of the Realm are staring with intrigue. They probably think that Gold is going to come out of this Lannister head after it’s removed. Only blood and flesh, just like any other weak man.

One of the first acts of the new King’s reign is to remove this vile Old Lion’s head. Not many people can say they destroyed the most powerful family in Westeros, due to the planning of just one man. The thought excites him.

Tywin is placed on the block.

“Do you have any last words, Lord Tywin?” The King says.

“I hereby renounce Tyrion from the name Lannister, he is no longer my son and I disavow and disown any claim of him as a Lannister.”

“You would be doing him a favor, my Lord.” The King replies.

“Cersei?”

“Dead. The blade was poisoned…it needed to be removed, but it was stuck in an artery, so if it was pulled out she would have bled to death. There was no chance for her.” The King responds.

“Tommen and Myrcella?”

“I will send them back to Casterly Rock, and they can become Lannisters if they so chose. That name doesn’t seem to hold much weight any more…they may be better off as bastards…that’s something, isn’t it?” The King says with a grin on his face.

“I never saw you coming, and that is where I failed. What will take you will be something you won’t see coming either, and it will ruin you. The Lions still have claws.”

“Sure thing, my lord. They had better be sharper than yours. You were finished once the Iron Bank abandoned you. Take comfort in the fact that the best champion you could get was Meryn Trant.” The King retorts.

Tywin nods and resigns himself to his fate.

“In the names of Aegon Targaryen, and Rhaenys Targaryen, I Jaehaerys of Houses Targaryen and Stark, third of my name, now sentence you to die.” The King announces.

The King takes Blackfyre and swings it decisively, taking Tywin’s head clean off and in front of the Seven Kingdoms. He must have planned it this way, because the Lords and Ladies of the realm were still filled with disbelief that it was really happening right up until Tywin’s head was removed.

Oberyn grabs it by the hair and holds it up high.

“For Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys!” He yells.

The Kingdoms, seemingly united by either the hatred or fear of Tywin reply with cheers for the dead Lannister.

They start cheering even louder for the King. They probably cheered just as hard for Ned Stark to lose his head too.

Kevan Lannister gets up and leaves.

Arya Stark runs up and hugs the teary-eyed King.

“You did it, you got justice for your brother and sister!” She says to him.

“You helped me get here. You’re one ravenous wolf…just like me…maybe that’s why we always got along.” The King replies, getting his composure back to be regal.

“It was almost too tough not to just kill him.” She shrugs with a sly smile.

Oberyn and Robb look at each other. They didn’t know that this girl was capable of that, and they are both good fighters. They don’t know whether to fear her or respect her. It’s a strange thing for him, seeing a non-Dornish girl that could fight like that.

He shakes the little girl’s hand in respect. She’s eyeing him curiously.

“Wolfsbane, that was some serious poison you used.” Oberyn states.

She stares at him innocently, “What’s that? I’m just a little wolf, my claws haven’t even grown in yet.” Arya replies.

They all laugh. “I like you, girl, you should come to Dorne sometime.” He says to her.

“I will, I’d love to see the place. I can show you vipers how to fight.” She responds with a smile.

Robb puts his arm on her shoulder and leads her away, “Now come on, let’s go and celebrate, we just made all Seven Kingdoms afraid of you.” He laughs.

He looks up and sees the Starks depending the stairs, without the King. A servant comes and asks for the Queens presence, which she obliges. As she leaves, the Queen heads towards the King, whispering in his ear. He looks surprised and then nods to her, and they kiss briefly. Looks like he did learn something from him and Ellaria. He finds his lover in the crowd and winks to her. Supiciously, he finds young women, namely Arianne and Margaery now looking for prey to pounce on, and they start looking towards the King as he holds court.

He goes to kiss Ellaria, making the crowd slightly uncomfortable, which is what he wanted to do anyway. Let them look, he reasons.

He goes back to join the King, while holding court. The island of Dragonstone is quite lively now. Maybe there wasn’t that much love for the Lannisters after all.

“Lord Commander Mormont.” The King says.

“Your Grace, It’s hard to not call you Snow anymore.” Jeor says.

Ser Jorah is dumbfounded, watching his father.

“What do you think it’s like for me? I was sent to the Wall under the falsest of pretenses. I have not forgotten where I came from.” The King says.

“Indeed, I always knew there was something special about you, but I never would have guessed this…” Jeor says.

“The man I sent to you, Qyburn, has he worked out at the Wall?” The King asks.

“He has indeed, we have new weapons for manning the Wall, with Dragonglass and Wildfire. We can make a stand against anything now.” Jeor says.

“Good, you brought Samwell with you?” The King asks.

“I brought him and his girl, Gilly, along with her son.” Lord Commander Mormont replies.

“Thank you, Lord Commander. I think I will give him another chance, I’ll ask him to be Grand Maester, I can’t very well let Pycelle stay on.” The King announces.

Lord Commander Mormont just nods. He pulls out Longclaw and presents it to the King.

“I meant to give this to you, but I’ll now have the chance to give it to my Son. Jorah, make sure that you earn this, boy.”

Ser Jorah looks shocked, and reluctantly takes the sword. “I don’t deserve this.” Jorah says while admiring the sword.

“I have no doubt that you will earn it son, I have done things as well, maybe worse than you. I let Craster sacrifice his baby boys to the Others, and I did nothing to stop it. You deserve this more than I do now. Stand on your own two feet boy, and protect whatever is precious to you.” Jeor commands.

“Aye, father. I have something to protect, and I will.” Jorah laments.

Ser Barristan and Jon nod to him.

“Goodbye Son. Don’t forget that you have a home.”

“Here We Stand.” Jorah says determinedly. Jorah comes forward and hugs his father for a time, before the Lord Commander leaves.

“Farewell, Lord Commander.” The King says.

The King now makes his rounds to speak to the Kingdoms still in attendance. Oberyn joins the King on the way to the Dornish camp.

He finds the Dornish camp, and the various Lords and Ladies greet the King graciously. They offer him a fine glass of wine, which he accepts. He walks up to Doran and Arianne, to greet them.

Doran is seated, but Arianne kneels before him.

“Your Grace, I want to thank you for avenging Elia, I never thought I would live to see this day.” Doran says gleefully and teary-eyed.

Arianne is licking her lips as she looks to him, dangerous game, girl. He eyes his niece suspiciously. She winks at him.

Doran starts speaking reverently, “We brought gifts for you, many Dornish wines, silks, and fabrics for you and Queen and-“

“We are prepared to give you anything you want, your grace.” Arianne replies seductively.

Each of them the men present shift uncomfortably.

Drogon flies up next to the King, bumping Arianne slightly off balance. Oberyn laughs at that.

“Thank you Doran, I’m glad that we could avenge her. Part of me feels like the reason she was targeted, but that was my parents choice, and I am told that she was okay with their union.” The King states.

“That sounds much like Elia, she was always quite confident.” Oberyn says.

“Are you going to go the way of Rhaegar Targaryen and take a second wife, your grace?” Arianne asks with a grin.

The King nearly spits out his wine, but he regains his composure.

Oberyn puts his arm around the King and leads him away. “I should have warned you about that…my apologies.” He looks back and shakes his head at his niece, while she gives a feigned innocent smile back to her uncle.

“It’s fine, Oberyn. I just don’t want Drogon to burn the poor girl. That girl is trouble, just like you.” He laughs.

“Right you are, Your Grace.”

Catelyn Stark

The Starks are in the Godswood together. Robb, Talisa, Arya, Sansa, Catelyn, and even Gendry and Theon are here along with Ghost, and Greywind.

It warms her heart. The King is not here because he is holding court. She wanted to speak to the Queen anyway.

“Here she comes.” Sansa says.

They all kneel before her, showing respect. She walks upon them slowly, with apprehension. She can probably sense the tension of the moment. She doesn’t really know them, yet nor does she know anything about family, she can tell.

“We asked you here…Your Grace…to show you that you…are…one of us now…” Sansa says.

“I don’t know what to say.” Daenerys responds. She indicates for them to rise.

“I want you to know that Jon is the best man you could ever marry, since Robb here is taken.” Catelyn says.

“If Jon loves you, then we love you Queen Daenerys.” Arya states.

“We think the world of Jon, so we want to protect you and him and we heartily welcome you as our good-sister. Jon doesn’t needed, but you have our blessing. I want you to know that.” Robb says.

Talisa walks up to her and says, “You are going to be a good aunt for our little Ned Stark, aren’t you?”

Daenerys nods. Her breath is getting heavy and it looks like her eyes are wet.

Sansa brings her a dress that she made, with a direwolf and a dragon sigil on the cloak. It is mostly grey with a red belt line stripe across from it, with red stitching around the chest area. The cloak is black, red, and grey with the wolf and the dragon facing each other. Looks like someone went to great lengths to put this together. Tears start streaming down her face.

Daenerys examines the clothing with her hands, and she feels the intricate details.

“Now, there is something I must tell you all.” Catelyn says.

“When Bran fell from the window, Jon came to see him before he left for the Wall. I was a hateful woman to him, but I never mistreated the boy. I may have been a bit harsh, but I had not done anything before this day. After he kissed Bran’s forehead, and started to leave. I told him-“

“It should have been you.” The Weirwood says. This shocks Catelyn for a while, but Arya and Sansa are not as surprised as she.

“He was a boy!” Arya says emphatically.

“Why?” Sansa says.

“Damn, mother.” Robb says.

Talisa, Theon, and Gendry just look at each other.

“I hated that boy for no reason other than my own pride. I cursed myself and all the Gods for that. But he didn’t even tell you, and he is now my King. I will accept you, into our family, Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Father tried to resign his position as hand over King Robert trying to kill Daenerys after he learned she was pregnant with Rhaego.”The Godswood tree speaks again, to the surprise of most of the people there.

Daenerys starts crying even harder.

“It’s Bran…” Sansa tells her mother.

The face on the tree starts to resemble Bran, and it lifts her spirits.

“Welcome to the family, Daenerys Stormborn.” The Godswood speaks again.

“Brandon…are you…safe…?” Catelyn asks.

“I am as safe as I could be, the Raven is guiding us. It’s good to see you, mother. Sansa, Arya, Robb, Talisa, Gendry…Theon…” Bran says through the tree.

The eyes on the tree drift over to Theon. He seems to know that it’s Bran and he shrinks back in fear. The face on the tree now looks over to Daenerys, still crying.

“Even though, you don’t know it yet Daenerys Targaryen, you need to realize that you have a home, and for the first time, a real family.” The Weirwood tree says.

“That is all…I ever…wanted…” Daenerys cries out.

Catelyn resolves herself to treat this girl just like she cared for her own children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes it to the Godswood.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

They are all acting odd.

Daenerys is crying, Robb, Arya, Talisa, and Sansa are looking at him with sympathy. Gendry and Theon are just…there…Gendry is sticking close to Arya, and Theon to Sansa.

Lady Catelyn looks like she wants to leave the very moment that he arrives. What have they been doing?

“Your Grace.” They all say.

“What is this?” He asks.

“We were…welcoming the Queen into our family…” Sansa says.

“That true, Dany?” He asks. He still doesn’t trust Sansa.

She nods to him, and comes and shows her the dress. It looks great, and well crafted. They must have spent a while working on it, probably together. They are trying their best to welcome her…this is a good start.

“I’m sorry for what my mother did to you. She told us.” Sansa says to Jon.

“Oh? You think I want your pity do you? I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. You could have just…not turned out the same way, when it came down to it…” He says while looking her straight in the eyes.

He and Sansa stare directly at each other for a time with intensity. Before their concentration is broken.

“That’s enough.” Robb gets in between the two of them.

“I need to speak to Daenerys.” He tells them all.

They all file out, slowly, and Talisa and Arya hug them on the way out.

“So…you want a second wife, is that what you came to tell me?” Daenerys teases.

“I, don’t think-” He stammers.

“You are far too prudish for that, I saw the Dornish princess trying to get in our bed.” He looks her in the eyes with trepidation. “Relax, she is safe, I would even let you have your fun. You are far too ‘honorable’ for that.” She smiles at him, wiping her tears away.

“I don’t know what to think of the Starks. They are trying, but I just can’t bring myself to trust them.” She says.

“Nor should you.” He replies.

“Talisa and Robb, they will do their best though. It’s just…” He says before she joins in.

“Sansa and Catelyn.” She says determinedly.

“Aye.” Jon says.

“Now would be a good time to go see Rhaegar, brother…” TheHeart tree says.

“I had nearly forgotten…Rhaegar…my father…asked me to bring you here…” He tells her.

She looks at him suspiciously.

“I know I must sound mad, here come and touch the tree with me.” He says.

She walks over with him, and they touch the tree together.

Light flashes before their eyes and the tree’s hue starts to glow slightly. The face on the tree appears to start groaning before the light fades and and the world appears to spin quickly…

They are still at Dragonstone, but the scenery is slightly different. The trees appear to be more ripe around them, and the sand appears to be more pale than before, water is trickling from the red leaves of the Weirwood and the face doesn’t resemble Bran at all. It looks like a gaunt face, the cheekbones sticking out and the rest of the face sunken. Like an old man at the end of his rope.

The sound of an instrument lulls them out of their dreamlike state.

It’s Rhaegar, playing his harp, beautifully and with his eyes closed.

They look at each other, and they are both stunned in to silence, with heavy breathing.

They listen to Rhaegar playing the harp, and it feels like melancholy, pain, fear, love, and madness transformed into a tune of harmony. It feels like he’s activating their souls, if there was such a possibility. Such is the beauty of the tune.

He finally stops playing, and is now eyeing them intently.

“I feel like I should know who you are…you look like…faces I have seen in my dreams…” Rhaegar says.

“Don’t tell me…you look like mother…Daenerys. And you, you look like…me…could it be…?”

They nod to him.

“Well look at us, the children of the Mad King!” He says sardonically.

“You are King then, my boy?” Rhaegar asks.

“Aye.” Jon replies.

Rhaegar grabs his head, and winces. Looks like he has a headache. He starts looking at the both of them intently.

“You are Jaehaerys, I remember my dreams now, you were there at our wedding. Did you do what I asked of you?” He asks his son.

“I just took Tywin’s head myself.” He says with determination. He unsheathes Blackfyre and and hands it to Rhaegar. His father grabs the blade and cuts his hand on it, letting his blood trickle onto the sword. Nothing happens, much to Rhaegar’s chagrin. He instructs Jon to do the same. Jon cuts his hand on the Valyrian Steel, watching his blood trickle on to the blade as well. Again, nothing happens. Now Rhaegar is frustrated.

“I had thought that…that would work…” he says.

Jon and Daenerys look at each other. He partially sounds mad, but at the same time, they awakened dragons and fought an army of dead men, not to mention they died. They are not in any position to question.

Rhaegar continues looking at Daenerys, searching her face. He finally speaks to her. “You wouldn’t happen to mind, would you sister…?” Rhaegar requests.

She grabs Blackfyre and cuts her hand on it, with the blood trickling across the blade, since she holds the sword down, instead of upright. Rhaegar is staring at the sword intently, with unwavering focus. The blood seems to be turning black quickly and then it evaporates. That’s odd, because he thought she told him that she couldn’t burn. That blood is certainly burning right now…wait, burning? Blackfyre is now exhibiting a slightly red hue, and the blood is turning into red steam. Rhaegar has a smile on his face, and it seems to be as bright as a sunny day.

“It worked. It worked! I had a feeling!” He says.

Suddenly he doesn’t seem so mad anymore.

“My apologies. I just couldn’t shake this dream that I had…I know, I know, you had to be thinking I was mad.” Rhaegar says with lament, while glancing off into the distance.

He runs up and hugs them. He looks at both of them curiously, eyes glancing back and forth between them.

“So, these dreams I have, they call out to me. I need to tell you some things, and that’s why I wanted you here. For the three heads of the dragon, it was a phrase that I couldn’t get out of my head. At first, I was sure that I had to have three children, then I was sure that there would be three dragons flying in Westeros. I didn’t know if that meant three Targaryens would survive, or that three people with some dragon blood would live somewhere, but the truth appears to be far more simple. There are three things, namely for us Targaryens that make you whole, that make you who you are. Without those things, especially in the case that you lose them, you lose your…mind, and it changes into madness. Naturally your mind will try to reconcile itself and give you reasons to justify your behavior at that point, but that is part of what madness is. I can’t say I’m not mad myself, I am the son of Aerys after all, and it scares me. I did watch him descend into madness, and I don’t know if it was him trying to being a dragon, or whether it was the children that mother couldn’t bring in to the world, but something appeared to be influencing him to that affect. Maybe his mind was just weak, and madness took over like a castle siege. So I say to you two beautiful dragons, find what makes you whole, and hold on to it for dear life, lest you become as mad as my father. I know for certain that love plays a big part in that.” Rhaegar says.

They sit in silence, absorbing what he just said.

“You are not mad, you are my valiant brother. I named one of the dragons after you.” Daenerys says.

“I’m glad you thought enough about me to name a dragon after me…thank you, sister mine.” Rhaegar puts his hand on her shoulder. She puts her hand right on top of his.

“So how is Kings Landing…?” Rhaegar asks them.

“I have not been there…” He admits to his father.

“Why?” He asks, without judgement.

“There is wildfire, spread throughout the capital, curtesy of Aerys Targaryen, who they call the Mad King, my fucking grandfather.” He laments.

Each of the three of them, has that in common. But that does not make them that man.

“I had heard there was wildfire there, but I didn’t know it was that much. However, you mean to tell me that a dragon is afraid of a little fire? Something is amiss here, tell me the truth.” Rhaegar accuses.

He looks at Daenerys with a sad smile before starting to speak.

“I had seen it burn. Men, women, and children, buildings, and ships. Innocent people, all burned. I do not wish to see that again.” He adds.

Daenerys looks ashamed.

“I see your point, although I was under the impression that you were a King. Did you think that meant that you would get everything you wanted, or that everything would work in your favor? You should know better than that considering that you had to be hidden away, just so that you could live.” Rhaegar says.

Jon looks at Daenerys and then looks down in shame.

“This is not the time for sadness but for happiness. I can see you two love each other, and I don’t suspect we will meet again so I offer you this. I have no inclination towards the faith, but I can marry you right here and now, I have a few chains from the Citadel from my studies. You can just call me Septon Sadsong.” He says with a smile.

They look at each other intently, and then smile and nod. He grabs a binding cloth and joins their arms around each other. They get ready to lean in and kiss before Rhaegar laughs and stops them. He puts on Daenerys the cloak that Sansa made.

“You have to say the words first…” He chuckles.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days.” They say the appropriate words together.

Now they kiss each other, pledging themselves to each other.

He records the event in a book and hands it to them.

“Now, that we have that out of the way, what are we going to name the child? I must admit I’m partial to Rhaegar, but I won’t judge if you name him or her something else.” He says.

Their eyes widen and they look at each other with heavy breathing.

“What do you mean?” Daenerys asks.

“I know the look well, sweet sister, I saw it on mother a few times when she lost children. You are pregnant, of that there is no doubt.”

She is breathing out of control, with disbelief, apprehension, and traces of fear.

They can tell they don’t have much time left, since the scenery starts warping into the present. They hug Rhaegar again and he just looks on at them with love as they fade away.

“Go forth, you children of the Mad King! Teach your children the right way, and the way of the dragon.” He says.

They return to the present. It has turned night and the Godswood is silent and empty.

As they look out behind them, they spot Ser Davos, Ser Allister, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, and Robb. They don’t look pleased.

“Where in the seven hells have you been? We have been searching for you for hours and we thought you were taken.” Ser Davos states.

“Mind your tongue when you are speaking to my husband, Ser Davos. I was making him my husband and King, you don’t have a problem with that do you?” Daenerys says with a blazing look into his eyes. Davos looks down at his feet. They are all silent now, and they look at her with fear.

She takes the book they got from Rhaegar and throws it to Davos, after opening up to the page where the event was recorded. He reads it and almost falls over out of shock.

She grabs the King by the hand and leads him back to the castle. The men kneel when they walk by, out both fear and respect. This is the Queen he chose, the Stormborn. She’s back.

“You will not disturb us, lest you want to die tonight. The Seven Kingdoms can surely wait for a night.Anything you need, refer to Robb Stark, he is now acting Hand of the King and Queen. The King and Queen are retiring for the night, we have much to discuss.” Robb is beside himself when he hears that. He finally nods to them.

They storm up the stairs together, with her daring anyone to get in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how that turned out, but I liked it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Names chosen. Small council formed.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

“Visenya, for a girl.” She says.

“I’m thinking Rhaella, or maybe Rhaenys.” He responds. It was too difficult for her to say her mother’s name. It must be the same for him. She stares at him for a short while. Finally she gets an idea, and responds.

“I think I’ve got it. Lyella, first of her name, for both of the women that died bringing us into this world.” She says. His body stiffens, and then he gives her a real smile. It’s a lot to take in, a child, seven kingdoms, a husband, and a small council to make.

“I love it.” The King replies. “What about for a boy?” He asks.

“Certainly not Aegon.” She deadpans.

“Speaking of which, what did you do with the mummer’s dragon?” She asks him.

“I sent him in search of Euron Greyjoy and the horn called Dragonbinder.” He responds.

“Euron Greyjoy…” She says through gritted teeth. “He needs to die indeed, but this, Dragonbinder horn, isn’t that just a myth?” She asks.

“You mean like dead men, dragons, and coming back from the dead? You yourself are a myth aren’t you then?” He retorts.

He has a point, she reasons. “You didn’t want to be a kinslayer then, I suppose. I respect that, just remember that he is not your brother.” She tells him. He looks at her for short time, deep into her eyes. Then, he looks away scratching his chin, seemingly with thought. Something is on his mind. It appears as though he is going through a range of emotions.

He looks saddened, and then determined before speaking to her about what is on his mind. “I appreciate what you did making Robb acting Hand, it was a good choice for the moment, but I don’t think he should be Hand.” He says.

“Why?” she asks. Looks like she may have been wrong about his political aptitude.

“Since you chose a Lannister as your hand before, you were trying to make your Hand be more loyal. That makes sense, but it would look like we are favoring the Starks, but they are our subjects, you know. I made that mistake before. I won’t be doing that again.” He says, with a hint of sadness.

She climbs on top of him, with her hands on his chest, looking deep into his grey eyes.

“Looks like you are the king I chose after all. I wanted to see if you’d make the same choices, but it looks like you have learned something. I had to see what kind of love you had for the Starks.” She whispers in his ear, stroking him and feeling him harden beneath her. She smiles at that.

“Well, I couldn’t be an idiot forever, my love, I told someone already that you are only stupid if you don’t learn from your mistakes.” He retorts.

She glances away from him at that thought, had she learned from her mistakes? They would be going to the capital soon and she didn’t admit it, but she was not looking forward to seeing all the structures that she had destroyed by way of Drogon’s flames.

“Will you forgive me for Kings Landing, my dear husband? I was not in my right mind after Missandei.” She says to him.

“As long as you forgive me, dear wife.” He says in low tone of voice. He looks at her breast now, not with longing, but with lament, seeing the spot where he stabbed her. It’s a lot to take in.

“I chose to marry you didn’t I? Well, don’t keep looking if you aren’t going to touch me, oh wise King.” She says to him, breaking his concentration. Not for the first time, his dark thoughts were brought to the light by her. She could tell, but neither one of them would trade this for the world.

He relents and starts to touch her, sending flames throughout her body.

She takes him and rides him like he was her Silver. Both of them are panting, and he puts his hands all over her, while she makes him hers, and then she can tell that they are both close. Her heart is racing and his body is beginning to shake. Hands find each other, and they grab each other, holding on to reach their climax. Once they do, they come back down and now are enjoying each other’s company.

They are happier than they had ever known hey could be, and they are proving it to each other now.

We are the King and Queen, and it’s time to start acting like it, she thinks.

They get dressed, and go to present themselves as husband and wife. Robb and Ghost are standing outside the door waiting for them. She searches Robb’s face, and finds apprehension, trace amounts of excitement, and a little impatience. Looks like he wasn’t that thrilled to be acting Hand.

“Your Graces.” Robb says with a slight bend of the knee, but they gesture to stop him before he does.

“Robb, so great to see you, brother.” Jon says with a smile.

“Is it? I need to talk to you both.” He says.

They look at each other, and then nod to Robb.

“First, bring us Ser Davos, Lady Brienne of Tarth, Olenna Tyrell, Ser Jorah Mormont, Oberyn Martell, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Samwell Tarly. Meet us in the throne room.” She tells him.

Robb’s breath gets heavy with apprehension, in anticipation for what’s coming and then nods before going to follow his orders.

“How long are you going to make him suffer before we tell him? You can tell how uncomfortable he is with this. He looks like I did when I was elected Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” Jon says with a smile. He has no desire to be Hand.

She laughs at that. He now decides to join her in laughing. They are enjoying this.

Brienne of Tarth

Training with Arya was one thing, since she was so unbelievably fast, and she mostly dodged dodged the strikes aimed at her. Ser Barristan was another story. He was relentless, and he could match her blow for blow, and she never could seem to land a decisive strike on him. She should not have taken this older gentleman lightly, as he nearly disarmed her twice in the beginning before she knew what was happening.

She keeps poking and probing Ser Barristan for an opening, but finds none. He parries each of her strikes and returns the blows very quickly. He’s a monster. She cannot find an opening on this knight that commands such respect, and now she knows why. He is ready for everything she has and the only recourse she has is to tire him out, which has not even come close to happening yet. It feels like Ser Barristan could have held off the entire army of the dead. Nary a riposte nor counter is able to break his defense. As she looks off into the crowd, she can see the smirk on Ser Jaime’s face.

Brienne has to resort to unorthodox methods to try on him now, which is not her forte. A barrage of strikes on Ser Barristan gets him to finally start sweating. As she watches his strikes intently, she launches a headbutt at the knight, a slight look of surprise on his face, that later turns into a smile. This is the first emotion that she has seen the knight show since they started training and then she watches with shock as the older knight simultaneously disarms her with a heavy strike to her hand, sending a jolt of pain up her arm.

She had never before witnessed a knight this good.

“Don’t take him so lightly, you can fight well, but you never knew what it was like to fight the man that could stand against The Sword of the Morning.” Jaime says. He looks at his lost sword hand for a brief moment, and then picks up a sparring sword, testing out its weight.

Robb Stark comes and greets them before announcing “Brienne of Tarth, you are summoned to the throne room with the King and Queen.”

What now?

Led by Robb Stark, she finally makes it to the throne room of Dragonstone, with the dark hue and ambience of the castle making the individuals gathered stand out.

She looks around and notices the crowd of people around before the throne. Daenerys is sitting on the Dragonglass throne, with the King on her side.

“Thank you for joining us, my lords, and ladies. We are here to make some announcements, regarding the small council.” The Queen says with a serious look.

“First, the King and I will rule as equals. Neither of us is the more powerful, and if we disagree on an important matter, it shall involve the small council, which we will now form. Each of the individuals present start looking each other, with Samwell Tarly being the most surprised that he is here.

“Robb Stark, step forward.” She says. He does so, and then kneels.

“Thank you for your help in welcoming me into your family. You have no idea what that means to me. Also, you were one of the few people that treated my husband with respect, when it was not expected of you. You are a true brother. I am prepared to offer you a position the small council. Robb Stark, I would name you Master of War. Your triumphs against Tywin Lannister are already legendary, Young Wolf. We wanted to see what you thought of being Hand, and we can tell that you do not desire it. We also want you to spend time with your wife and son, Lord Stark.” The Queen announces.

He looks up at the monarchs shocked. It appears as though he was ready to decline the position of Hand.

“Your grace, you honor me.” Robb says.

“Make sure that we win our battles, Lord Stark, so that you can raise your son Ned Stark to be as fine a lad as you.” The Queen replies.

He nods. He looks to the King and seems to recognize the smirk on his face.

Why did she ask me here? Brienne can’t help but wonder.

“Olenna Tyrell, step forward.” Daenerys says.

She does so, but doesn’t kneel.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I’m much too old to be kneeling. I’ve not been seducing men in many years. Unfortunately my days of being on my knees are over.” She says.

Each person in the room is stifling a laugh at expense of the Queen of Thorns. She doesn’t bite her tongue and that’s what they enjoy about the woman.

“Lady Olenna, we would like to name you Master of Coin. Mistress, if you will.” Daenerys states.

“I will keep you financial affairs in order, Your Graces. Let us keep the these pitiful Kingdoms and houses held together now shall we?” Olenna states.

As they continue, she can’t help but wonder why she is there.

Oberyn Martell is named Master of Whispers.

Ser Davos Seaworth is named Master of Ships.

Samwell Tarly is named the Grand Maester.

Finally, she is called up.

“Step forward, Lady Brienne of Tarth.”

She steps forward.

“Lady Brienne, you are one of the best knights I have ever met, and I would like to name you to the Kingsguard, Lord Commander, that is. Well, King and Queensguard.”

“I, Your Grace, well, Ser Barristan-“

“Recommended you for the position, he doesn’t fancy attending council meetings, and he says to nominate you. That you were the best knight for the job.” The Queen interjects.

“Why me?” She responds.

“You are loyal and wise, Brienne. Also, you are not favoring loyalties to anyone present, we need a voice of reason.” The King states.

She nods to the monarchs, realizing that she would be the neutral party on the council.

“Go forth Ser Brienne of Tarth, and make sure to teach the King and Queensguard how to be knights, do you think you could handle that?”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. Sansa had effectively, turned her against this queen, and for what exactly?

“Yes, your grace.” She says.

Not what she was expecting.

“Ser Jorah Mormont, step forward.”

He steps forward.

“You are without a doubt one of the strangest cases in Westeros. You are Northman, serving a Targaryen, and you have served well. I will name you to the small council, as Protector of the Realm. I have no doubt that you will do well in this position. You will coordinate with the Nights Watch, and the Brotherhood without Banners to pursue justice in the Seven Kingdoms, to those who cannot do so for themselves. Do you believe you can handle this?” She asks.

“Yes, your grace. I will serve you well.” Ser Jorah returns.

“No decision will be made on the position of Hand of the Queen and King at this time. This is rather a new arrangement, after all. We think that each of you is able to serve the Kingdoms, and I have no doubt that we, together, will bring prosperity to the realm.” The Queen announces.

“Thank you for joining us, and we have one more announcement to make.” She says.

She looks at the King and he nods to her.

“Every single one of you that we chose to be on the small council need to know who you are, and who are serving, we believe. Each of you will join us in the Godswood, where we will remember our lives we may have had before, and in so doing, we will forge a better future.” The Queen states.

  
"After you do so, we set for the capital." The King tells them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter reminds me how much I hate politics. But I suppose they are necessary sometimes. Anyway, I hope that turned out alright.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check in on Essos. Hand is chosen.

Grey Worm

Missandei, Irri, and Greyworm are meeting with the Masters of Meereen. Along with them is Strong Belwas, Daario Naharis, the Shavepate, and Hizdahr zo Loraq. Daario is in the corner, sharpening his blade and listening to the meeting, his blue hair running along the sides of his face. Occasionally his dirk will catch the light and shimmer while he inspects it. A vain man, but loyal to the gold, Greyworm thinks. Strong Belwas is mostly uninterested in the meeting, but he has a voice if he wants to say something. The Shavepate looks confused, his opinions about the meeting changing like the direction of the wind. Hizdahr seems to be apprehensive, but that appears to be his permanent disposition.

Greyworm does not understand these men, but this one will watch out for Missandei, as his Queen commanded. This man of the Stormcrows with blue hair seems to want for her. Something to do with her bravery and the way she moves when she is training, while being overlooked by this one. She trains every night, and now she doesn’t bear bruises anymore. He admires her skin for being so tough, that she takes the words of men better than most other people he has seen.

That’s the only reason isn’t it? He thinks to himself.

It’s sometimes difficult to stop looking at her, especially when he is the one pretending to be a pompous lord and speak to these slave masters. The funny thing is that the unsullied train for everything, but this situation. When it comes to meetings, she is the strong one. The Queen told them that taking Meereen and freeing it would be the most difficult thing she would ever do, but now the task falls to them, her other dragons. This Queen has given him purpose.

“So, Lord...Worm was it?” Hizdar zo Loraq says cautiously.

“This one is called Lord Naath.” He replies.

“Right, so my lord, why are we here again?” Hizdahr says.

“We are here do discuss the ending of slavery, putting chains on the necks of men, Hizdahr.”

The council looks astonished at the informal mention in his tone. He doesn’t understand why, but it was just as Missandei told him, they don’t take him seriously. That works in their favor.

“But, Lord...Naath...the slaves here are happy-“ A master from the house of Pahl says before Missandei interjects.

“No one that is bought or sold is happy.” She says quickly.

“Silence, woman.” Grey Worm says to her. She nods to him apologetically.

Irri is looking on intently, with the wine glass in her hand almost overflowing before she catches herself and continues serving the council members.

“What if we say no?” A master asks him.

“Then we fight for it. You may not know this since you haven’t experienced it, but freedom is better than breathing.” He says firmly.

“We’ll take the city in a day.” Daario says blankly. He doesn’t even look up or stop sharpening his blade.

The master gulps at this. No one wants to challenge an army of unsullied, even with their fortified walls and larger army.

“We may be prepared to do as you ask, but give us time to end our practices. Five years time.” Master Pahl says.

“No. Now. You will not own another person. We strike chains off of men.” He replies.

“What will we do with the slaves that are happy teaching our children?” The Master asks.

“Build them a school and pay them. This one give gold to you for this purpose.” He tells the Master.

“Strong Belwas likes this idea! They served you, now you serve them.” Belwas blurts out.

The three prominent Masters in attendance get up in frustration. Hizdahr is contemplative of the offer, but the rest of his house does not seem to be on board. Hizdahr comes up to him and whispers, “I will go with your plan, you only want to free men and I accept, we will go another way. House Loraq will stand behind you, I will let my family see reason. I will speak to them.”

He nods to Hizdahr.

The other three Masters in attendance beat their fists on the table. “You are trying to take our livelihoods, we are the Great Masters and we will not be deterred by you former slaves!” Master Pahl yells at him. The other two seem to be in agreement.

He stares at them unfazed.

“You will not own another child. That is end of discussion.” He says.

A slight crowd uproar in the background distracts the masters, but he doesn’t respond to the sounds. He tries to garner the attention to the masters by speaking out to them. But a young boy comes in the chamber and hands a message to Missandei. Breaking the concentration in the room.

“What’s going on out there?” The Shavepate says.

“Just some small celebrations. That’s nothing compared to what’s next.” Missandei says.

As she comes and hands a glass of wine to Grey Worm, as a Master speaks out to her. “Didn’t Lord Naath tell you to be silent? You must not be properly trained, woman.” She gives a bright smile, and places a glass in Greyworm’s hand. Along with the glass, she slipped him a scroll, it has a Targaryen seal on it.

“My apologies, I do mean to show you just how well I was trained.” Missandei says cryptically.

Grey Worm now looks down and reads the letter.

_Queen Daenerys Targaryen has successfully claimed the Iron Throne alongside her husband, Jaehaerys Targaryen. If all affairs are in order, the plan is go. My lovely dragons, take to the skies._

_The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, and the Breaker of Chains._

He gets determined now and looks to Missandei, and they nod to each other.

He stands up now and speaks out. “Great Masters. Your time is now at its end, we the dragons are here. House Loraq will be spared and will rule Meereen, but with a council to watch you.” He looks at the Masters present.

One of the Masters jump up in protest. “You’ll never take Meereen from us, you are weak and-“ Irri puts a blade through his throat.

Missandei sneaks up and kills the Master from the house of Pahl. Only the Master of Loraq remains and Missandei approaches him slowly. “Thank Hizdahr for your life, Master of Loraq. He begged for your life and swore to the new Meereen, that he will rule alongside a council to oversee. It is now time for you to step aside and end the use of chains on your people.” Missandei says with determination.

“We have to ask you, Lord Naath, why this woman is talking so proudly?” The Master of Loraq says.

“She is our leader.” Grey Worm informs the council.

The rest of the followers of the Queen now kneel to her. Hizdahr awakens from his stupor, looks around at all the others that are in the room with him, and then kneels as well. This young woman now has an entire council of bloodthirsty men, sellswords, and noblemen kneeling to her. It is a sight to behold.

One of the freedmen comes running into the room. He looks around, stunned at the abnormal scenery, and then unfolds a black banner with a red three-headed dragon. The banners from Meereen he throws down on the ground burning. The city is now theirs.

He says the words that Missandei had pronounced at the start of their plan, and proudly.

“The dragons take to the skies.” Now, he beats the end of his spear on the ground in a steady rhythm.

The council starts cheering, and they walk out to more cheers from the free men and people throughout the city. Chains are being thrown on the ground all around the city.

Ser Barristan Selmy

None of the others dared to come into the throne room but him. No one wants to see a lover’s quarrel, so why was he here? He looks around the throne room to distract from listening to the conversation.

It’s a nice change of scenery seeing four banners hanging on the wall behind the Iron Throne, three of which are black banners with a red three-headed dragon, and the other a white wolf on a grey banner, all with crowns.

_That has to be a first._

There were thunderous cheers welcoming them into the capital. But the King and Queen were not seeing eye-to-eye on something. From his point of view, neither one of them was the Mad King, so no one was going to burn. This small argument was nothing to him.

What are they arguing about anyway?

“Why wouldn’t you just let me name Ser Jorah Hand?” Daenerys shouts at the King.

“Because if we were both drowning and he had to save one of us, he’d hold my head underwater just to spite me!” The King yells back.

Not entirely untrue, he thinks. He will not be butting in to this one.

“What’s wrong with a little loyalty? That’s more than you ever gave me!” She shouts.

“You asked me to forgive you, did you not? Why are we bringing this up?” The King returns.

“Because we are in the same room where it happened, and it feels like a fresh wound, you Northern fool!” She says.

“Ser Jorah would lick your boots if you asked it of him, we need a Hand with more backbone!” The King says.

He speaks truth. Ser Jorah is too loyal to Daenerys, he might have the King killed if he could even get a chance to do so.

“So would you, my King, if we’re being honest, so you want me to go find another husband because you’re too loyal to me?” The Queen asks.

“Well, beautiful Queen, who could we find that is loyal, and to both of us? We need someone that doesn’t hate Targaryens, and would be loyal no matter what, especially someone experienced in holding court.” The King retorts.

“Lady Olenna.” The Queen says.

“She is loyal to you alone, especially after she remembered her other life, and a little too ambitious, she might try to put Margaery in our bed to make her queen. Maybe even try to undermine our authority. No, we need someone that would give up their power if need be. I know it’s a lot, but we will find someone.” The King returns.

_I need to leave this room right now._

He starts to retreat, before both of their fiery stares stop him in his tracks. Two dragons, fires ablaze, burning grey and violet holes into his simple armor, what has he signed up for? Looks like he might have to speak. He was a Kingsguard so long, that he forgot he had a voice. He steps closer to the two of them, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing heavy, standing before the throne.

“Listen up you two. I watched Aerys and Rhaella’s relationship deteriorate, and the realm suffered for it. I have no doubt that you love each other. My only regret, is not stepping in sooner to try and help where I could. The Kingsguard vows were to protect my monarchs, but not from each other.” Their looks soften a little when they glance at him, but their breathing doesn’t slow down, and they go back to staring at each other.

“I am angry with you, because this room reminds me that even after we have reconciled, I have to swallow the fact that I would still save you, even if it would kill me. I just don’t know that you would do the same. Is it so bad that I want a Hand that would?” The Queen says with a solemn tone.

“With regards to saving you, you are mine, as I am yours, no one or nothing will take you from me. I am a dragon now. Now as far as the Hand goes, you are not wrong about that, but we do need a Hand that has a level head when it comes to us sharing our power with one another. We need to make this decision together.” The King says while directly staring into her eyes.

_Wait a second…They haven’t named me to the Kingsguard since I named Ser Brienne for Lord Commander. I meant to give up my power so that I could maybe be the personal guard for them, since I couldn’t choose between them. I love them both equally, one is the son of Rhaegar, and the other is the daughter of Rhaella. I could not choose between them, so I thought that the Lord Commander should be dispassionate about the Targaryens. Looks like they were setting me up now, but for what?_

They are looking at him thoughtfully now. Both of them, right at him. No anger, no sadness, just contemplating him, as if his face holds all the secrets of the world.

Now they start whispering to each other…what now? They are agreeing now on something, what is that about? After each agreement, they look at him again. Something is going on now…

“Step forward, Ser Barristan.” The Queen says.

He does so, with apprehension.

“You are a loyal knight, you served Aerys, Rhaegar, and even Robert faithfully, and Rhaella as well. You have seen the best and worst of the Targaryens. We want you to continue to put your faith in us, and as such, we will name you to the small council.” The King says.

What now?

“Ser Barristan Selmy.” The Queen says. “We name you Hand of the King and Queen.” The King says.

He kneels before the both of them. The Queen pulls a pin out and attaches it to his armor.

“You will teach our child both the good and bad of being a dragon, and we repay your loyalty and faith, good Ser. Rise, and show the Seven Kingdoms how to find their voices, just as you have done here today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Don't know what else to say.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capital shenanigans.

Jaime Lannister

Casterly Rock never interested him, Kevan can have it. He chose to be a Kingsguard, but Jaime doesn’t know why.

Was it Ser Barristan? He certainly idolized him. Brienne, the strong minded woman? Maybe he just actually believed in the current monarchs.

_Even though I can’t help but wonder why they would let me be a Kingsguard. Probably Ser Barristan and Brienne offered up words of praise. Besides, he needs some purpose for his life._

Ser Jaime Lannister, a glorified babysitter, as his father would say. He did ask him to stay close to the new rulers before he died. Probably not what he had in mind, but Jaime doesn’t regret his decision.

Daenerys Targaryen is sitting the Iron Throne, looking just as stunning as Rhaella, but without the stress of an overbearing, well cruel is the actual word for it, husband. 

The King, Jon, well Jaehaerys, is organizing the city watch and the city. Getting to know the thoroughfares inside and out. Probably to get the layout of the city, he said that you have to know a place to rule it. Gods he’s too young to be that wise. He also wants to put the people at ease from the dragons and wolves that occupy the city.

That and the King cried when a petitioner told him about how his story of being on the Wall, then giving children the chance to live in the Reach, where they learn to harvest, hunt, smith, and read, had inspired him to run an orphanage. More than Varys ever did for them. The petitioner went on to say that the entire capital was moved by the fact that the King brought the Lannisters to heel, when they were the ones that put his siblings to the sword, and that no one else has cared for the children so. No more will there be children that have to grow up without love. He’s still new to ruling, so that got to him.

It certainly is bad tact to cry at your first day of petitioners, lest he be called the crying King.

Jaime has not doubt that he will reign that in. He was secretly wiping his own tears as well.

Loras Tyrell is here, looking as handsome as ever, on one knee before the throne.

“Ser Loras Tyrell, Your Grace.” Jaime tells the Queen.

“Welcome to the capital, Ser Loras. What can I do for you?” She says.

“Your Grace. You look as radiant as ever, my grandmother speaks highly of you. I am here because I received word that Stannis means to depose you and the King. He means to take his daughter Shireen, a young girl, and burn her to earn his Lord of Light’s favor. I learned this from the Master of Whispers, Your Grace.” Loras announces.

_Stannis is that stupid? Well the short answer is yes, isn’t it?_

The Queen is smiling. They seem to have a plan for everything, he has never seen anything like it. They probably could leave the capital, and Kings Landing wouldn’t miss a beat, they certainly did well forming the small council.

“What did you do to my Master of Whispers, to get this information before me, Ser Loras?” She asks.

Now the pretty man is blushing.

“I, well, we, he,” Loras stammers out before the Queen adds to the conversation.

“Relax, Ser Loras, I know how Oberyn operates.” The Queen japes.

Loras lets out his held breath.

A lady of the court comes in and whispers in the Queens ear. Daenerys nods and the lady leaves.

“Your story is now corroborated, I assume you want Stannis dead?” The queen asks.

“Yes, your grace. He killed Renly.” Loras says determinedly.

“Give him the chance to surrender, if he waves the white flag, then you send him to the Wall. If not, take the Thenns, and more Free Folk with you and bring fury upon him before he can call his banners. Shireen will be the Lady of Storm’s End, and she can call forth any other of Robert’s bastards that still live to help her rally the bannermen, this is what she wants.” The Queen says.

“You would put Stannis down over a young girl, your grace?” Loras asks, astonished.

“Absolutely, the King is in agreement on this.” The Queen says determinedly.

_Makes me proud to call myself a Kingsguard._

Ser Loras gestures to have someone brought forth. It’s Shireen, hooded to conceal her scars, she removes the hood and looks into Ser Loras’ eyes. “Spare my mother, kind Ser.” Shireen says.

“I shall, my Lady, now come and tell me about the defenses of the castle…” Ser Loras says as they walk away. Another man in large robes steps forward to petition, behind the doors to the throne room.

“The High Septon to see you, Your Grace.” Jamie tells her.

She nods to the guards to send him in.

The High Septon now comes in starts looking around at the scenery of the throne room. He seems surprised to see the Queen here, but he will petition her all the same.

This Septon came here with Lancel Lannister, well Brother Lancel, as he is called now. What have you done with yourself, cousin? Lancel looks at Jaime and gives him a smile.

_I suppose it’s no different than being a Kingsguard._

“Your Grace.” He says as he and Lancel kneel before the throne.

“High Septon.” The Queen says. “What can I do for you?”

“We have received disturbing reports, your grace. First that you Master of Whispers has been seen pleasing and being pleased by many women and people in, well, let’s just say they were not in their chambers, Your Grace.” The Septon says.

“Who were the victims of these actions, Septon?” The Queen says.

Lancel and the High Septon look at each other. They don’t know what to make of this.

“We don’t think it’s decent, Your Grace, you said that you offered freedom of religion as long as-“

“It does not harm another. I know, I’m failing to see where another was harmed, Septon.” Daenerys says.

No one says a word.

“Did anyone complain?”

“No, Your Grace. They were in buildings, behind closed doors. Just not locked doors.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Then, do you have any serious matters to bring to my attention?” She asks the Septon.

“Your Grace, we want to know your position on these matters, we need decisive action to make your position on this, clear as day. Let the Kingdoms know the stance of the capital on this egregious behavior.” She looks at the Septon impassively. “Furthermore, the King,” now the Septon has her attention. He better watch himself, “he cried, Your Grace, on his first day of petitions, and we thought that he might need prayer and guidance.”

“He cried?” The Queen asks incredulously. She looks directly at Ser Jaime now.

“You knew about this, and didn’t tell me?” She accuses.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He says to her.

She eyes him with a look that scares him more than any that the dragons had given him.

“Take me to my fucking husband.” She whispers in his ear.

He ran faster than he ever did before.

Sansa Stark

The capital is…a tolerable place now…a strange thought to cross her mind.

Kings Landing, safe for Starks, how is that even possible?

The streets are safer than they have been, and the small folk are being well fed. The people love the royal couple, and it seems that they took to them rather quickly.

She doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Is it Jon or is it Daenerys making it a decent place to live? It would have to be both of them, she thinks bitterly. Looks like she is a passable Queen at least.

She has never been more wrong than she has about judging people.

She hated Jon as child, she hated Daenerys, when she had not even harmed her. She loved Joffrey, even after he was responsible for the death of Lady, and she even admired Cersei and Littlefinger. A poor judge of character, that’s what she’s good at. A bitter thought creeps at her, she killed one wight with a Dragonglass dagger and she thought that made her a Queen. She feels ridiculous now, and even her mother was trying to get on Daenerys’ good side. Jon was the one that gave her mother back to her. It was just…a failure on her part. Now she has no power whatsoever. It might as well have been a royal decree: Sansa Stark is powerless.

Her mother is waiting for her in the guest chambers of the capital, the place where her father was beheaded by that damned Joffrey. At least he was turned into a wight, she thinks back fondly on that. Jon did that too…her mind reasons. He is ruling ably, and honorably. They will not ruin the realm with their relationship either.

The other thing about those two Targaryens is that they seem to keep getting caught making love all over the capital.

They were found hiding in a brothel.

They were caught in the throne room.

They were seen in the dungeons, near the dragon skulls.

They were reported in the Sept of Baelor.

What is wrong with these monarchs? Have they no shame? Such things are unbecoming of royalty.

Another odd thing is, that no one else seems to have a problem with it. Not one complaint has been lodged to the small council about these monarchs. Don’t they know better?

Sansa resolves to be the one to tell the small council about the out-of-control King and Queen.

She starts off complaining to Robb, surely he could be the one to tell Jon not to act so indecently. “Robb, Jon and Daenerys are acting insufferable, they are making love all over the capital and the small folk are reporting on them. It’s not right, for a royal couple to act this way.” She complains. Talisa, now heavy with child looks at her with a strange look. “What exactly is the problem? Did you want to tell the King and Queen what to do? Have you met them?” Robb replies. “Someone needs to tell him about those, recreational activities, they are unbecoming of such dignified positions. The royal court will be soiled by such actions, and I would like the capital to have some decency.” Talisa chuckles at her, raising her ire, they don’t take it seriously either. “Have you read about the monarchs that came before them, Sansa? The Mad King burned people alive. Joffrey beat them as you well know, and even murdered them in cold blood, don’t even get me started on Maegor the Cruel. You want him to take several whores like King Robert, sweet sister? Clearly, the man loves his wife. I’m not aware of a problem here. Perhaps if a person sees a problem with everything and anything, then it is them themselves that is the problem…” Robb says.

Talisa and Robb laugh at her while she storms out of the room.

She complains to Ser Davos. “Of all the dangerous things that a person could do in Westeros, to get between the two of them would certainly be at the top of the list, Lady Sansa.” Ser Davos replies. Someone has to say something.

She complains to Samwell Tarly. “Ummm, I’m not going to be the one to do that, my Lady.” Sam says to her. He’s a coward and a weakling.

She complains to Ser Jorah. “Unfortunately, my Lady, no one can stop the Queen from getting what she wants.” He says with a bout of disappointment. Damn it, Ser Jorah, say something. However, she can’t help but feel like he would do the same if given the opportunity. Dead end here.

Will no one on the council see reason? Have they packed the court with sycophants and loyalists?

She complains to Lady Olenna. “Gods, that sounds glorious, it’s been so many years since I took a man for myself and showed him what I could do, ahhh, to be young again…” She fantasizes, the damned old harlot. “What were you saying now, dear?” Olenna asks. Not getting anywhere with this one. “That’s all Lady Olenna, I’ll see you some other time.” She tells the Queen of Thorns.

This is getting nowhere.

She finds Oberyn Martell, and starts complaining to him. He drops his robe while going to the bath with no shame whatsoever, finally she looks around and sees one, or two, or three naked women, even a few naked men are spotted after she keeps looking around, one of which she recognizes, Ser Loras. Damn it to all seven hells. He was probably the one that told them to do these, activities. “Are those the only places they were caught? Hmmm…I’ll have to try to see if I can watch sometime…” He says as a few feminine voices start giggling. “So…are you here to join us…? We love ginger.” Ellaria Sand says as she comes forth looking like some sort of goddess, while trying to hand her a sweet smelling goblet of wine.

She leaves the scene in a hurry, with even more giggling ringing in her ears.

Maybe the Hand will see reason?

Ser Barristan is looking at her perplexed. He heard what she said right?

“My Lady…I have been fighting battles for a long time. I learned how to size up my opponent, and I won some battles that I should not have, because I out-prepared my enemy. I killed some evil men and women, and in some instances I just followed orders. Here and now, I tell you, this is not a battle that you want to fight, Lady Sansa.” Ser Barristan speaks.

He’s a damned loyalist. Looks like Ser Brienne is my only hope of talking sense into these ridiculous monarchs.

Ser Brienne’s face has turned the color of a Dornish Red, upon her mention of the frolicking monarchs. “You know what they have been doing, Brienne?” She nods. “You know where they have been seen doing it?” She nods. “Obviously, Lady Sansa, I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I know where they are at all times.” Ser Brienne states. “Where are they this time, on the Blackwater Bay, at the ramparts to enter the city, Flea Bottom, is it?” She asks Ser Brienne, but she is not reassured by the blush on her face not changing in the slightest.

“I can’t just tell you that, my Lady…it’s…” She is fighting laughter now and it’s difficult to speak properly, “private.”

She gets ready to leave but Brienne has more words for her. “No offense, my Lady, but you do understand that they could kill you, and that there are not many people that would miss you, right?”

“That doesn’t make what they are doing right.” She replies.

Laughing, which is uncharacteristic of her, Brienne replies, “Very well.”

She finally returns to her chambers, with the door slightly cracked, probably mother, wanting to make more clothing for Robb’s child.

She approaches the door to her chambers and hears frantic screaming, probably a lady stabbed by one of the sowing needles, she reasons.

Sansa pushes the door open and finds Jon and Daenerys on her bed, fucking and making ridiculous sounds, clearly no one sounds like that during sex. They look at her for a short time, with him on top of her, showing his arse, both literally and figuratively. Then they go back to what they were doing, continuing to make love on her bed, making loud and obnoxious sounds.

_Great. Now I need new sheets._

“Why doesn’t she just go back to Winterfell? The bitch. Oh, don’t stop, right there, right there!” The Queen says while Sansa storms out of the chambers, looking for anywhere that isn’t here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend told me there was something wrong with me when I made this. That's how I know I'm in good shape.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small council meeting.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

Seated at the table of the small council meeting, the King looks around at the serious tone of each of the faces present.

He remembers how Lord Stark looked when holding court at Winterfell, but this is the fate of the realm at question now. He is the single most powerful man in the realm, matched only by the Queen he chose. He would have it no other way.

“Shall we begin?” The Queen says, while looking into his eyes. He gives her a nod.

Ser Jorah seems to be scowling at him, probably lamenting his Khaleesi only having eyes for him. He gives Ser Jorah a wink of the eye, and he finally looks away.

“Rickon arrived safely back at Winterfell.” Robb announces, but without a smile, more is coming. “The Northerners say that he is out of his mind, but that he makes good decisions on the state of the North. They say he keeps saying ‘Bran told me’ and ‘Bran says’ when talking to the Northern Lords, but the information always checks out. They don’t know what to make of him.”

“The Northerners don’t know what to make of anything.” He says to Robb. “Send Theon, Sansa and Catelyn back to Winterfell to help Rickon. Rickon can decide what to do with Theon. I would send you, but your child will be born soon. Are the Lords going to claim that your son is too southern, and shun you away?”

“They may bloody well try, but the Young Wolf is still a wolf, Your Grace.” Robb says determinedly.

He nods to his brother.

He glances over see Daenerys’ lips muttering curses under her breath. He gives her a smile to let her know she was caught, and she gives him a light smile in return. Let the North sort out their own problems.

Ser Davos has news, as he can tell from the look on the older man’s face. “We received a raven from Jon Connington, the Young Griff found Euron near the Ruins of Valyria. He will engage, and bring back both Euron Greyjoy’s head and the Dragonbinder. Correspondence will follow.”

“Hopefully, they kill each other.” Ser Jorah says. The small council starts a bit of commotion.

“Ser Jorah.” The King says and silences the commotion. Daenerys is looking at him with intrigue at the sound of his voice. He has their attention.

“We earn our lots in life, as long as it is within our control. Accidents happen, yes, but what we have, we earn. Life, death, our names, titles, lands, family. We fight for it, and we earn it. Everyone can have a chance to earn what they deserve, as long as it’s within reason.” He tells Ser Jorah.

“You are too soft on the boy, he will be the end of you. He could be a threat, Your Grace.” Ser Jorah returns with a serious, but somewhat mocking tone.

“I cannot blame a boy, given a false name and doesn’t know who he is. If he brings me Euron Greyjoy’s head, then he has earned a name. He could start his own house, be a part of house Velaryon, but until he commits a crime he is not a criminal, deserving of death, Jorah Mormont. Am I understood?” He says with conviction.

Jorah looks to Daenerys, and she looks like she is conflicted, since she had the vision of the mummer’s dragon. “I left it up to my King, Ser Jorah, as should you.” Daenerys says.

“Besides, if what you say is true, then the Starks should have killed me in my crib.” He tells Jorah.

The council looks down at this, not wanting to add to the conversation.

Ser Barristan decides to speak. “I agree with the King, while legitimizing bastards has brought ruin before, we are talking about one man. I have seen Blackfyres and I have seen Targaryens, both good and bad. One man can make a difference, sure, but our King does not wear a crown because he is some hidden prince, nor is it because he has a great story. Our King is our King because everywhere he goes, he has someone willing to crown him, and follow him to the death. Not only that, but I have seen with my own eyes what this young Northman, the Wolf Dragonknight, can do with just twenty men. Speak now, my lords if that is not the case.”

The council looks around at each other, before conceding to the case presented and nodding.

“Aye.” The small council members say.

Sam is next, “We have reports that the dead are stirring and making their way south towards the wall. There is wildfire at the keeps and, and Dragonglass spikes and scythes, to end their trek if they try anything. There’s just something about it that bothers me. They are not sending a few dead men to scout, nor are they seen in large numbers. It’s like they are biding their time. I only recently convinced the citadel to give a small concern when I showed them a wight, and even then, I spent three days convincing them that it wasn’t a mummery. They are idiots.”

“We have done all we could, we can only hope that we have enough time to prepare. We will send more men to man the Wall, but eventually, the Starks are right about something. Winter will come.” He says to Sam, who nods in return.

“The Reach will help with that, it was a stroke of genius to send the Free Folk. They took half of our harvest just to live and they have grown a quarter of the harvest back, I have never seen anything like it. They are loyal and fierce, and they even follow orders better than my own children ever did. My only complaint is that they grow bored rather easily and they are a little bloodthirsty in this time of peace. We have enough food to last winter, but the crown still has a huge debt. The hole in the crown’s purse is bigger than any women that have spent too much time with the viper here.” Lady Olenna adds as she points to Oberyn.

The council chuckles a bit at the old rose. But Oberyn just grins at Olenna. Somehow, the Reach and Dorne have improved relations, without anyone losing their head. Perhaps it was Ser Loras and his proclivities. Freedom is working, but he can’t help the feeling that something wants to go wrong. It can’t be this good, all the time.Nothing is perfect, except for maybe this violet eyed women staring at him like she wants to undress him here and now.

_I need to get this meeting over with._

Oberyn smirks at them, as if he knows what they are thinking. He adds his stamp on to the council meeting. “That stunt you pulled in showing the High Septon how you felt about my… activities has achieved results. They finally started acting on their zealotry, under the name the Faith Militant and have been arresting, namely those that initiate illicit behavior. They may even come for me next.” He says with a shrug.

“Who are they looking for?” The Queen asks.

“Namely, Loras I suspect.” Olenna returns.

“He was sent to Storm’s End to take care of Stannis.” He informs them.

Ser Brienne perks up at this mention of the false Stag King.

“Why was I not told of this?” Brienne asks.

He sighs, and finally tells Brienne why. “Tormund will be there.”

She blushes a small amount and then nods to him.

“You think the Faith Militant is bold enough to arrest one of us?” Oberyn asks.

“Not if they are smart, you start with the little fish.” Daenerys replies.

“If they arrest Ser Loras, then they have a case against Oberyn, which then could lead to the King and Queen.” Ser Barristan says.

“Aye.” The council says.

“Keep them away from me, my sword wants blood, and I don’t want to sway the public in their favor. We have the love of the people at this point.” He says to the council as he holds out Blackfyre, with a mildly reddish hue on the blade when he grips the handle firmly.

“Aye.” The council returns.

He notices Daenerys shuffling in her seat, he knows what that means. She slips off the shoulder covering that she had over her dress and he can see the outline of her ripening bosom.

_This meeting needs to end._

Sam doesn’t get the hint.

“For the record, Your Graces, you are the best King and Queen we could ask for.” Sam says timidly.

“Sam, we don’t want flattery. We want to succeed or fail based on the merits of our character.” He tells the Grand Maester. Sam shrinks back. He hasn’t stopped looking at Daenerys, nor has her gaze deterred from him.

_The council better end soon._

Ser Davos is now the next to gain his ire, “Your Grace, Aeron Greyjoy wants to assist taking down Euron. Shall I tell him that you approve?”

“Aye.” He says still looking at Daenerys. She is staring into his eyes still.

_This woman will be the death of me. She owns me._

Daenerys rises from her seat, slowly and confidently, then slowly walks toward him. An image that he has dreamed of many times. She comes over to him and whispers into his ear. A knock on the door happens at the same time and Ser Barristan lets a servant in, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. “I’m told there’s a King here,” as she points to his cock, ”can he come out to play?” She whispers in his ear.

His temperature rises to volcanic levels. She ushers to Robb to move so that he can sit next to her, but Robb hasn’t payed any attention to the conversation, he looks like he did as a child when one of the Stark children were born, completely and utterly confused. Finally he stands up, with his chair sliding along the council room floor.

Robb announces something, but he can’t quite tell what he says, since Daenerys is in his immediate vicinity and the dragon in him is taking over his body. His hands start finding their way towards her hips, which are slightly wider than he remembers. Also, her violet eyes are getting even closer to his face.

_Time to get out of here._

Oddly, the small council gets up and remove themselves from the room without being asked. They hadn’t looked twice at them either. Must be something going on. Probably Ser Barristan dismissed them, but he is quite sure that he doesn’t care in the slightest.

Ser Jorah looks on at the two monarchs and stares for a short time. He gives Ser Jorah another wink before he leaves the room.

Ser Barristan slowly walks out of the room and looks back, Daenerys is almost exposed, showing the better part of her breasts out of the red dress she is wearing, clearly no smallclothes were invited to council meeting.

Ser Barristan now exits the room, closing the double doors to the council chamber as she gets fully unclothed, which doesn’t take much. She now has her hands in his trousers while he removes his black and red tunic.

_Dragons take what they want._

He throws the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms on the council chamber table, and she lightly squeals as he inserts into her. He thrusts a few times and she starts to grab and wrap around him, ensuring that he will go nowhere anytime soon.

Not that that was ever an option.

She bites him a few times, some light and some stronger, along with a few scratches. After some time, she starts grabbing for his arse, and squeezing it. Finally, she quickly spins them around and starts taking him just as a dragon would its prey, riding him with her hands on his chest, looking deeply into his eyes. He gropes her overly sensitive body, and she responds to each one of his touches. Now she examines his chest with her hands along with a few scratches and scrapes to mark her territory. He can tell that her climax is coming, the explosion to match his, a few of which have already happened. He bends her over the table and thrusts, causing her to start shaking and pulling herself back onto him. It’s time they both climax, trying to match the intensity of a dragon roaring.

_I still can’t believe I have a woman like this, carrying my child._

When they both come down off of their natural high, they finally regain their senses. He can spot the slight bump of her swelling belly. It sends a happiness through him that he never knew he could have.

“One day, we are going to be chasing a little me or you around this castle. A baby dragon. Who says that the world needs another you?” He says to her playfully.

“That was your fault.” She says, as she places his hands there on her stomach, where life is growing.

“Our fault. I don’t recall you ever saying no, Dany…” He tells her.

When he says that, her heartbeat rises, yet again along with her breathing. She climbs back on top of him, fondling him to get him to rise again. It’s working. Pregnancy has made her ever the more passionate, and that is saying quite something.

“Your voice, and when you call me Dany…I just can’t help myself…” She says to him seductively.

_Small Council meeting…Successful…_

“Do you know why the Council left? Did Ser Barristan dismiss them? I was rather distracted by your red dress…?” He says to Daenerys. She smiles brightly at him.

“Talisa went in to childbirth, your nephew, Ned Stark is about to be born.” She informs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope that came out well.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre councils stannis. Robb gets the feels.

Melisandre of Asshai

At Storm’s End, the Red Woman has reached her wits end with Stannis Baratheon. He doesn’t hear her anymore, when she tells him that she was wrong, and they need a different approach.

“Ned Stark crowned me heir, the throne is mine by right.” Stannis says.

“Lord Stark lost his head, my Lord, surely you don’t want to follow in his footsteps.” Ser Farring tells Stannis. He doesn’t immediately respond.

This idiot Stannis is trying to die. She keeps trying to tell him that he is no match for the King that she never saw coming, which in and of itself is a mystery to her. That bothers her more than she thought possible. She saw him as Jon Snow, in the flames. She thought perhaps that his Old Gods would give him the strength to muster up a force capable of some small feats. But this, A dragon, hidden in the snows, still burning bright and able to burn the evils of men and beasts away? What has her life been about, all this time?

How could she not see this? Has she been forsaken by the Lord of Light? Was that blind Maester correct about the use of her eyes? Is it that the Prince who was Promised has the blessing of all the Gods? She lived such a long life for what reason exactly?

Those thoughts of hers are more important than what Stannis is rambling on about. He really thinks he’s going to take the King, with three dragons, a direwolf, and the love of almost all of the Seven Kingdoms. How does he plan to drum up a force to do this?

_I suppose it is partially my fault, I told him that he was the Prince that was Promised. All the time I spent serving R’hllor led me here. Stannis Baratheon is just a stag, that wishes for a flaming sword, and a crown. Fascinated by the fire of the Lord of Light, he wishes he was more than he is, like most men. He can’t be blamed just for his ambition, but he will lose._

“A Raven, my Lord, from the Reach.” The Maester tells him.

“Bring it to me.” Stannis tells a servant.

The servant brings him a raven scroll and he reads it. He scowls immediately after learning its contents, which by now is how she believes his face was made, but this scowl is something else. He throws her the scroll, letting it hit her in the face, and it tumbles to the ground. She picks it up and reads it, bringing an odd look to her face, but then her heart drops at the last bit.

_In the name ofKing Jaehaerys and Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms, Shireen Baratheon is hereby named Lady of Storm’s End. Stannis Baratheon is stripped of all lands and titles. You may go to the Night’s Watch, or follow your brothers to the grave. You have the option to surrender peacefully, but force could be necessary if you choose violence. Raise your banners if you dare, you false burning Stag. Renly was the true Baratheon King, not you._

_Also, The Red Woman, Melisandre will join the Brotherhood without Banners, and will never look upon Shireen Baratheon’s face, less her necklace be removed and subsequently gelded. By the King’s decree._

_Ser Loras Tyrell, Knight of Highgarden._

Stannis is now rubbing his head in frustration. He’s stuck now, still holding on to the notion that he was the promised prince.

“I will not join the Night’s Watch. That’s where men and criminals go to freeze to death.” He says to her.

“The King was once at the Wall, and he is now stronger than ever.” She returns.

“Aye, but I have no faith in those Northmen and savages. I’ll not die as frozen corpse. I’ll die on my own two feet, sword in hand. Call the bannerman forth.”

The Maester is staring at him. “Are you certain of this, my Lord?” The Maester asks.

“Aye, do it, and quickly. If I am to be a King, I find out today.” Stannis commands.

The horn sounds and he knows it is too late for him now. He ties his sword belt on and heads out of the castle, to meet the invading force. He thinks he can hold a long siege, but the flames have shown her otherwise. It’s time to go.

She deserts the castle, leaving her false Stag King behind, and searching for the Brotherhood without Banners, the only force that believes in the Lord of Light, and have favor with the King, at the place she saw in the flames, somewhere near the Riverlands. She is not afraid to die, but she will not give her life for Stannis. He is not R’hllor, nor is he the Prince that was Promised.

As she looks out on the horizon, from the back of her horse, she can see the advance of an army.

Ser Loras Tyrell leads a force of Wildlings to raze Storm’s End, and he wants Stannis’ head. Stannis looked confident when she saw his eyes, but the flames showed her some of these men that Ser Loras brought climbing the Wall. Thenns, she heard them say in the flames.

Stannis is not going to last long.

The Wildlings climb the castle walls easily, they looked like they were excited to finally have something to do.

As she rides for the Riverlands, she sees a battle unfold, with the Wildlings engaging the bulk of Baratheon men, a small force of men and it looks like some of the first men killed are getting roasted on an open flame by the Thenns, she has not seen men do that in many years…but that was exactly what she saw in the flames.

Ser Loras Tyrell

Renly will be avenged today. He knows Stannis is too proud to wave a white flag and surrender. These Free Folk he brought with him are raring for battle. They just want blood. But they know not to harm the Lady Selyse.

Shireen is with there with them, there are men with her just to keep her safe. Hooded and hidden, she is in the center of the host that has come to put Stannis to the sword. The Free Folk are wildly loyal, more than any of the ‘Southern Armies’ as they would call it. Just for some food, and safe haven for the children, they now have nearly the best army in Westeros, so he thinks.

_Long live the King._

He had them ready to march on Storm’s End just by telling them that he wanted to kill someone and that it wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

Sigorn Thenn is with the group of other Wildlings as well as Tormund, sharpening their weapons and preparing for battle, with their odd rituals. They still don’t wear much armor, but they wear more than they used to.

“Stannis is mine to kill,” he makes sure to tell the Thenns. They smile at his fiesty attitude and head to the castle to take down everyone besides Stannis, he is honestly surprised that they even follow him.

Shireen steps forward, still with the scars on her face scaring the Wildlings, but the King and Mance were helpful in talking them down from killing the girl. She tells them how to get in the castle and instructs them on the layout of the holdfast.

They climb the walls faster than he thought possible, and they are attacking those burning Stag banners before throwing the men from the ramparts.

This may be a short siege. Stannis hadn’t had time to call his banners. Only three hundred men are defending this castle. The Thenns are taking out the soldiers, ignoring the rain of arrows flying towards them, and indulging in their bloodthirsty desires. They must have been bored, with the way they are ignoring the castle trenches and defenses, and they hadn’t brought out the Giants yet.

Suddenly, Mag the mighty and Wun Wun come roaring forth with ground shaking stomps and knock down the drawbridge, with heavy fists, covered in armor and spikes, tearing the wooden pieces to shreds and even tearing out chunks of the brick pillars that support the structure.Now the Stags have nowhere to run.They overwhelm the Baratheon soldiers quickly and now only Stannis and a few soldiers remain.

As he starts to crave the death that comes along with victory, he realizes that he has become just as wild as these Free Folk. Tormund comes and grabs his shoulder, happy like a child on their nameday. He’s a mad man, but it’s not as if you want the company of gentlemen on a castle siege. “Let’s go, you pretty knight, time to see if you got the balls to hang with us Free Folk.” He lets out a thunderous cheer. The rest of the Wildlings cheer in return.

The Free folk pour in to the castle like a pot of stew and start cutting the soldiers down. They start cheering loudly. Must have been bored, and in need of some entertainment. He can see Lady Selyse embracing Shireen out of the corner of his eye, but he only has eyes for Stannis. He runs into the castle to find Renly’s murderer.

He dies today.

He spots Stannis in his armor and his sword at the ready.

“Time to pay for your mistakes, false King.” He shouts to Stannis and goes to engage him.

Let’s see what he is made of.

Loras goes forth with his sword raised, and rushes towards Stannis, with his eyes narrowed, sizing up his opponent. “Your time is nigh, Baratheon.” He says looking into Stannis’ scowling eyes.

Robb Stark

He is in a room full of ladies in waiting and wet nurses, Mother and the Grand Maester are there as well.

The screaming and wailing of his woman is ringing in his ears. Time to be a father.

He broke his honor to bring this child into this world, and the only thing it cost him so far was his crown. Better than his life, which Jon saved. His brother now had the world in his hands, and he was ruling better than any King he had ever seen, or read about.

Not what he should be focused on, but he can’t seem to get the images out of his head of Walder Frey and Roose Bolton, taking his life and ending the reign of the Young Wolf. He still hasn’t spoken to Jon about why he kept the details from him for so long, but he has the babe to worry about.

Each person on the Small Council had touched the Godswood, and remembered their lives and failures. He was in tears when he saw Uncle Edmure’s wedding, and the end result, and he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.

_How are the others holding it together?_

He can feel Grey Wind’s presence outside the chamber, pacing back and forth, just as his mind is, and Talisa is looking to him for comfort.

As she breathes heavily and sweats profusely, she just stares at him and yells out, “if I didn’t love you so much, I would be cursing your name right now, Lord Stark,” while a wet nurse wipes her forehead with a damp cloth.

“You need to breathe, Talisa. Besides, that name you are trying to curse is yours now, too, Lady Stark.” He says to her.

His mother gives him a half smile when he says that. She was the one that suggested the marriage to a Frey girl, and released Jaime Lannister, nearly helping to seal his fate.

_No wonder Jon doesn’t trust her._

Talisa now smiles at him slightly, before the pain takes over and she starts panting, and lightly shaking again. She is holding his hand, and it feels like she is going to break his wrist, but he would take that pain over the pains of childbirth any day. He wonders if this pain is worse than when she sawed a mans leg off. Scary thought that is, but she is strong, he wouldn’t have chosen a weak woman.

He’s killed lots of men in battle, but nothing comes close to seeing the woman he loves birthing his child. It’s strange, it makes his legs weak, it was the same fear he had when he thought he was the last living Stark, but a hundred times over. All this for one babe, looks like he owes Jon another life as well.

_I wonder if the bells will ring for this Northern pup._

“My Lord, Stark, you must leave us for now, we need to do some…invasive…procedures…” the Grand Maester says to him.

Talisa grabs his hand even tighter. She looks as feral as Grey Wind.

Mother comes forth and tells him, “you don’t want to see this, Robb, we will call you straight away, when it’s time.”

He looks back and forth between Talisa and mother, and she finally lets go of his hand. The ladies in waiting usher him out of the door, while he looks on his hand and sees Talisa’s hand print etched into his wrist and hand. She was holding on more tightly than originally thought.

He goes outside the door, and spots Jon and a few Kingsguard outside waiting for him. Jon notices the look in his face, and dismisses the Kingsguard, they go to the end of the hall. Just out of earshot.

“Lord Stark.” Jon mocks him. That never gets old.

“Your Grace.” He returns, causing Jon to roll his eyes.

“We don’t need to stand on formalities. You can call me the One True King, Stark.” He says with a smile.

His brother could make anything more cheerful, he thinks fondly.

_I don’t know how he does it._

“You really are something else. You didn’t tell me, what exactly happened to me...” Robb says.

“It was one of the worst days of my life when I found out...especially when I had to ask Roose Bolton for men on the Wall. I wanted to burn every letter with flayed men on it. The bright spot was...when you named me your heir...that was the first time that I felt like I could do something with my life. You have no idea what that meant to me...brother.” Jon says with a teary smile.

That’s how he does it, taking the good out of the terrible. Seems odd, with the way that he used to never look happy, and now he has everything he wanted.

The pain is still there though, he can still feel the knife that killed him. Jon seems to notice this look and starts searching his face.

“You just keep moving brother, even when you feel the dagger in your heart and you’re in the darkness. You make sure that both you don’t drag anyone down with you into the darkness, and that you have someone willing to grab you and bring you back.” His brother says with more wisdom than he thought possible.

“It’s not that easy!” He replies and hits Jon on the shoulder. He hears the Kingsguard armor rushing towards him quickly and he realizes he had forgotten that this rather wise brother of his was the King. As he notices the Kingsguard men with their hands on their sword belts, his brother raises his hand to stop them.

“You should have told me everything...I wish it didn’t have to hit me all at once...” he says to Jon.

“You are alive, Lord Stark. As long as I have something to do with it, it’ll stay that way.” Jon says.

“It’s just a lot to deal with, I’m about to be a father, I don’t know if I can get my honor back, and I am a man of my word...” He says sadly.

“What do you want, for me to apologize? I’ll never apologize again in my life, I am a King, you know.” His brother says.

Daenerys comes walking up the hall with purpose now, followed closely by Ghost, with a fiery look in her eyes, and the Kingsguard move quickly to let her through. Ghost sticks close to her like he’s her familiar now, just like Grey Wind had been doing with Talisa while she was with child...

_Wait a second..._

“You could have told me where you were, husband. I have been looking for you and Ghost had to be the one to find you.” Daenerys says with passion.

“I’m sorry.” The King says.

_Wait a second..._

Now he realizes what helps his brother out of his darkness. This fiery dragon here, all but spewing fire.

“Robb Stark! Get your ass in here!” He hears behind the door.

Ladies in waiting come running out of the room and, he’s sure he hears objects flying. He gives himself a mental slap and gets ready to go in and face his own woman. She is reaching for him when he gets in the room and there are a few objects thrown around. She grabs him by the hand and he knows that she will not be letting go anytime soon. His mother is trying to wipe the sweat off of her face and she bites her.

It’s difficult not to laugh.

She starts roaring now as the Grand Maester tells her to push. When Samwell gets too close she punches him in the face, and it sounds like she broke his nose. He starts howling with pain.

Looks like I’ll keep holding her hand, I know what’s good for me.

The Grand Maester gets back up, and looks excited, the thick blood dripping out of his nose and it looks contorted to the side.

“We have a head!” Samwell announces.

After wiping the marks of the bite off of her hand, Mother starts to work on getting the baby. He hears a sliding sound and a slight pop of air, and suddenly a small vision of fingers and toes gets his vision blurry. A small bundle is placed in his hands and the tears start to flow. Talisa lets go of his hand and gives him a look of love now.

_Looks like she won’t kill me after all._

Jon and Daenerys come in and are looking on with anticipation, also trying not to laugh at the state of Lady Stark and Samwell Tarly, both bloodied a bit. Samwell passes out on the floor of the chamber, and no one seems to notice. Jon comes looking for the baby, and it looks like the baby’s eyes slowly open briefly and for the first time.

Robb doesn’t know if he has been breathing at all, but the baby is and he thinks that’s probably all that matters.

Jon asks to hold the baby and he hands the bundle to the King.

“Ser Jaime.” The King says, sounding like a true King.

He comes running clumsily, and pants when he reaches the King.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Ring the bells, Kings Landing welcomes Eddard Stark, the Wolf of the South.”

Chants of ‘Wolf of the South’ would reverberate through Kings Landing on this day.

All because of his small act of kindness for the King, he would return the favor a million times over.

Robb never knew he could cry so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that turned out okay. Thanks for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya speaks to her family. Justice is meted.

Arya Stark

There is a new Eddard Stark in this world.

Maybe this one will live. He will if she has anything to say about it.

“Robb, the knucklehead, is a father. Who would have thought?” She says as she stares at the dark brown haired, blue eyed baby in her brothers arms.

Her mother and Sansa look up at this. They smile lightly.

“I lost some of my honor. Hopefully I’ll find it in him.” Robb says with lament.

“You will. I’ll make sure of it. You put my honor over yours, even though you didn’t have to. Our son is at least deserving of the name Ned Stark isn’t he?” Talisa says.

“I can’t speak to that.” Mother says.

“Me either.” Says Sansa.

“Stop being so gloomy. We are happy, aren’t we? Jon even rang the bells for you.” She says to her family.

The newest Stark is making sounds and that is currently the only noise in the chamber. Looks like Jon is a sore subject. They must have been arguing about something.

“You will go back to Winterfell.” Robb finally gets out, pointing to mother and Sansa.

They are looking to their feet and not questioning him. Talisa looks apprehensive and decides to grab the baby from Robb and starts kissing him on his cheeks.

“I want to stay here, you need my help with-“ Mother says before Robb cuts her off.

“You will go to Winterfell, the King has commanded it, and now the Warden of the North has commanded it. Do you wish to disobey our orders?” Robb asks directly.

Mother and Sansa look apprehensively at Robb and then a look of fear washes over them. They go to the baby and kiss his forehead and then head towards the door. Robb’s voice stops them.

“You will send ravens, and you will be Lady of Winterfell, mother, until I return. If there is a matter that needs my attention, I will send orders to you and you will follow them. I will hear no more of your plans or plots. Right now, I do not trust you. Neither does Jon, and here I thought he was just being spiteful, but now I know that he was right not to trust you. I’ll send ravens to Rickon, as well. But right now, I want you out of here.” Robb orders.

Mother and Sansa wince at this order from Robb, clearly he must remember. Jon and Daenerys must have had him touch the Weirwood tree and he remembered, he feels the same way that she did when she saw the letter from Sansa, telling him to bend the knee to Joffrey. Jon didn’t even demand it when he had every right, he let Robb make his own decision.

“Disobey my orders and you will live out the rest of your days in the Vale, I’ll make sure that not even the Riverlands will take you in. That’s if Jon doesn’t kill you himself. My days of defending you to him are over.” Robb says.

“Did we lose our honor when father died?” She asks her family sadly.

Mother and Sansa are still quiet and don’t immediately respond to any of the conversation.

“You are assuming we had it in the first place, Arya. We were not the Kings of Winter because of our honor, we were because we killed our enemies, and made them submit to us. Honor is something we strive at, and work towards every day. Father found a way to make his honor work with his strength and he had gained much respect for it. Looks like it’s Jon that is doing that better than we ever could. We are just men acting like wolves and try to stay loyal to our pack, and we even fail to do that. ” Robb says.

“We had problems with the Northerners, just as much as anyone else. The Wildlings that we were taught to hate are more loyal than some of them.” She says.

“The best we can do, is to honor our dead, and make sure they live on through us, not forgetting what they taught us.” Robb returns.

“That includes aunt Lyanna, the Lady Wolf that we never knew. It’s up to us to make sure that we don’t piss on our ancestor’s graves.” She says.

“She still is here, within the King. It was always there, but now it’s there for everyone to see.” Mother says.

“Time for us to go.” Sansa finally speaks.

They leave the room and she goes with them and hugs them, before saying their goodbyes.

“Kiss Rickon for me. I’ll be there to visit, probably when Robb brings the baby to present to the North.” She says.

“Keep them safe, Arya. I don’t want to see any of them hurt.” Mother says.

“I’ll protect them so hard, you’d think I was father.”

They share a last tender moment before they set their direction North.

Gendry Baratheon

Looking at the parchment in his hand with mild concern, with a Stag Sigil, he has to think on whether he wants to read it or not. He is a Baratheon, but not the last. Thank goodness for that.

One thing more confusing than he ever thought is that he has no desire to leave Kings Landing. Is it because of Arya? Perhaps it is the King and Queen, that have turned it into a safe place, and no one is coming to kill him. There’s also the fact that he never felt close to his actual house, or father for that matter.

He leaves his chamber without reading the letter.

The bells had been ringing for a few hours, celebrating ‘The Wolf of the South.’ Eddard Stark, the son of Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. He never saw Arya smile as hard as she did then, except maybe when she saw her family again outside Harrenhal.

Arya has been with her family celebrating her nephew’s birth. In just a few years, he’ll be able to marry and that’s the only thing he really wants. With such heavy thoughts on his mind so early, he realizes that his feet have been taking him to the place where he always feels his calmest, the forge. It always helps to ease his tension.

The familiar heat of the flames wash over his face, and now he’s ready to swing his hammer. Maybe he does have some things in favor with his father…but what kind of father pays no mind to his own children?

Not the kind of father that he wants to be one day.

‘Half Robert, half lowborn’ he remembers Stannis saying to him after grabbing his face.

As if he had a choice in the matter. He pictures Stannis’ face on the armor that he is beating into shape, and he swings a little harder than usual. They were supposed to be family. Now the face turns to the Red Woman. She could get crushed by a hammer too. He continues beating the smoldering hot armor into shape, against the mold it’s hanging on in the forge.

He hears cheering outside and it breaks his concentration.

_Has another child been born? Well there’s no bells, so maybe this one isn’t as important._

The cheering gets louder and louder and he doesn’t want to go look, but the curiosity is overwhelming him. He finally goes outside.

A man that he doesn’t immediately recognize, with his armor of roses and several bandages wrapped on his shoulder and arms, is on a horse dragging a man on his feet with ropes tied around his hands.

After he sees the man throwing flowers on the ground towards some in the crowd he realizes that this must be Loras Tyrell. He certainly has the hair for the part, and the man he’s dragging is undeniably Stannis. Why didn’t he just kill him and get it over with? Tormund is behind him, on another horse, making sure he can’t escape. That’s right, they all hate Stannis just as much as he does.

His forge is far up the hill from where he was before, the King insisted. That, and he makes just a few Valyrian Steel weapons, and mountains of Dragonglass weapons, he could fetch lots of coin for that, but he is already paid handsomely by the crown. Both Dragonglass and Valyrian Steel are going for high prices right now.

_Not a bad time to be a smith._

Watching Stannis be dragged along by a horse makes his blood boil, but he chooses not to follow the procession.

After a while, the procession reaches the steps of the Red Keep and head into the throne room.

He goes back to the forge to clear his head. Swinging on that hammer always works to clear his mind. The fires have gone dim, and it’s time to start them back up.

_I don’t want to look at that ugly scowling mug of Stannis’ anymore, unless it is to smash it in like this armor here._

“Are you going to kill your uncle?” Arya says from behind him, scaring him nearly out of his breeches, like always.

“Why are you worried about it?” He replies snidely.

“We are betrothed, aren’t we? I know you want to do it, I see that look in your eyes. I had that look when I killed Ser Meryn and Cersei.” She says with a blank face.

“Yes, you monster of a girl. I want to kill him, and smash his chest and face in with my hammer. Is that what you wanted to hea-“ She silences him by kissing him. He backs away.

“I am not trying to get killed by your brother or brothers. Hells, your mother might even do it.” He says with a bit of fear.

“You have nothing to be afraid of.” She says.

“I see, no worries of being mauled by your brothers wolves, or maybe getting eaten by a dragon or three, not only that but he’s a damn good swordman, no worries at all. Not to mention that-“ She kisses him again.

“Shut up.” She says. A sturdy object hits his leg, and he nearly pisses himself. It’s Arya’s wolf, Nymeria, tail wagging against his leg. A drop of sweat creeps down his face, as he notices that he could have been murdered right here and now and he didn’t even notice the gigantic wolf in his forge.

“You have a point, nothing to be afraid of.” He says. Nymeria starts lightly growling, and Arya puts her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to attack.

_Someone is coming._

Podrick Payne comes in to his forge, he’s breathing heavy as if he was running at high pace. “Lord Gendry Baratheon, you have been summoned to the Throne Room.” Podrick says.

Nymeria walks a little closer to Podrick and he looks like a scolded child, trying to keep a brave face.

“What did I teach you Pod? I could hear your steps before you got out of bed this morning. Have you learned nothing?” Arya says.

“My apologies, my Lady, um, Lady Stark, I was in a hurry and I forgot to mind your teaching.” Podrick says apprehensively.

“Don’t call me that. Also, who are you to summon my betrothed like this and demand his presence? Just who do you think you are?” She says while staring at him.

They stare at each other for a while, with Podrick trying his best to keep looking at her. Nymeria is just looking around uninterested. The direwolf runs up and sniffs Podrick a bit before coming back to the wall and laying back down.

Podrick finally looks away. Arya laughs.

“Good job, Podrick, I was teasing you. You’re getting there. Now go you stupid bull, don’t keep them waiting.” Arya says.

He gives her a false bow, “my Lady,” and runs when she scowls at him.

He makes it to the throne room.

Loras, Margaery, and Brienne are whispering to each other. Ser Davos is there looking like he wants to hang his former King. Stannis is there in chains just looking around at all of them. Tormund as usual is loud and boisterous, explaining the battle.

“This little man can fight! He was swinging that sword around just like you little crow,” pointing at the King, “he might be the one man prettier than you, King kneeler!”

“Nonsense, Tormund.” The Queen says with a wink.

Tormund just laughs. “She’s got you wrapped around her fingers, little King kneeler.”

No one is actually paying attention to Stannis.

Tormund walks up to Brienne and she is shuffling uncomfortably. “He just smiles at her, I know you like the gold lion fucker, no hard feelings. Take care, big woman.”

The red-haired wildling looks around for a while before he decides to walk up to Stannis and punches him.

No one protests.

Gendry walks up Stannis now, still hunched over and grabs his face. “Half Baratheon, half bullshit.”

The others present don’t seem to understand, but Stannis does, and that’s all that matters to him. The Red Woman must have told him then. Even better.

Loras and Brienne step forth.

“Ser Loras, why didn’t you just kill him?” The King asks with an impassive look on his face.

“I had made a deal with Ser Brienne some time ago that if we got the chance, we would see Stannis die together, Your Grace. I submit Stannis Baratheon, the attempted usurper to the King’s Justice.”

Brienne nods.

“I also want to ask for your permission to head the City Watch if it please, Your Graces.” Ser Loras says.

The King and Queen whisper to each other.

“You do understand that being on the city watch involves more than just watching the Master of Whispers, don’t you, Ser Loras?” The Queen says.

Margaery starts laughing. Ser Loras just looks down at his feet.

Stannis looks annoyed that no one is paying him any mind and blurts out, “what kind of King are you? Letting the people do as they please, you’ll make a mockery of-“

Brienne punches him in the jaw, and he shuts up now.

Margaery now walks up to him and kicks Stannis in the balls, making him hiss a small bit.

“Poor false king, you forgot a simple lesson, you’re nobody...until somebody crowns you. Who crowned you? Some Red Woman, that tried to convince you to do some inhumane things to ascend and you failed. The person that crowned you has abandoned you and now you are alone. No one loves you, you burning cunt.” Ser Davos says.

“Right, well let’s get this over with shall we? I have something to say to the people. Fetch a block.” The King says.

Loras, Brienne, and Gendry now go and fetch the block, bringing Stannis along.

There is a crowd gathered outside, to witness the execution.

They start cheering, like they are excited for this man that they don’t even know.

The King raises his hand and the people get silent.

“Today, we are here to execute this man, Stannis Baratheon on the grounds of treason. It bothers me to hear this crowd cheering for this man to lose his head, because not long ago you all were cheering the demise of Ned Stark, a man that did not actually the commit treason that he confessed to. I want to look within yourself on this occasion, and determine whether or not this man deserves the cheers for his head being removed. We are not animals, we do not take delight in the killing of others, but this man must be brought to justice. Know this, that this man deserves a modicum of respect. He has some redeeming qualities, but yet he did commit treason. You need to know that anyone that gets executed has a family that loves them, and that you may be cheering on the murder of someone innocent. That can have consequences, if you kill the wrong person. So therefore, I offer you all the opportunity for you to speak now if you wish to stay his execution, by me, your King.”

Silence overtakes the capital.

The King nods to Brienne as she places Stannis on the block.

“Have you any last words, Stannis Baratheon?” the King asks.

“I was wrong about you, I thought you had no honor and that you spit on Ned Stark’s grave. I am ashamed to admit I killed my brother, and would have burned my daughter, all to get a crown. The Lord of Light was speaking to me, so I thought, and I wished to fulfill my role, destiny or what have you. Make sure Shireen lives on, and that you keep your honor, Targaryen.” Stannis now resigns himself and relaxes his head on the block.

The king nods.

“I, Jaehaerys Targaryen, King of Seven Kingdoms, now sentence you to die.”

He swings his sword, slightly tinged red and cuts through Stannis’ neck with ease. The blade looks to be a little warm and the blood from Stannis neck sizzles just a little on the blade of the King’s sword. Stannis head falls down to the ground and rolls around before stopping.

_This is the King we chose, a right proper one if you ask me._

Kings Landing sits in silent contemplation over what the King has just said.

Commotion finally returns and the capital goes back to its regular activity, but now they will possibly think twice before cheering on the taking of a life. Progress is being made in this city, once horrible in nature. With the day taking the turns and thrills that it has, he has one overwhelming thought that won’t leave him alone.

_Time to go hit something with a hammer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn back in Dorne. Daenerys confronts hypocrisy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of trouble with this one, but here it is.

Oberyn Martell

Being back in Dorne to spend time with his family is refreshing. The beautiful scenery of the Water Gardens, and the sun with its blazing heat is a familiar pleasantry. Doran’s legs look weaker than he remembers. Looks like he won’t be going to Sunspear any time soon.

Standing with his brother and his children, as well as Ellaria, he wonders why they are here. After seeing that not even Areo is here, he tells his paramour to leave them, he knows there is something going on. She kisses him rather vigorously, per usual, and then leaves.

“How do you like serving a King, brother? You don’t look half as bothered as I thought you’d be.” Doran asks, as the rest of his family look up now and pay close attention to his reaction.

There it is, that’s what they want, to know more about the King.

He smiles before answering Doran, “It’s not Dorne, but it’s growing on me. I have hated the capital for a long time, and now I have grown rather fond of it. The King is probably madder than me, in fact, it’s nice to meet a monarch with such good taste.”

The rest of the family looks on curiously, since Oberyn had always been the most dangerous person they knew.

“Have you been tasting the King then?” Arianne asks, as their surrounding family lightly laughs, except Quentyn, that looks embarrassed at his sister’s banter.

“Afraid not, dear niece. Dragons only have eyes for other dragons, apparently.” He replies with a shrug.

“We have dragon blood down the line somewhere don’t we? I might like to try and tame a dragon.” Quentyn says.

“Don’t be an idiot, brother. Targaryens are the real dragons, you are just a frog, and they even can see through their dragon’s eyes, I heard a story like this.” Trystane says to Quentyn.

“At least offer to be his squire, and see if the dragons take to you, frog. One of them was looking at me strange, when I was asking if the King shared his bed. I don’t want you to get burned, brother, unless I’m the one lighting the torch.” Arianne says with a sarcastic smile.

“The King hasn’t yet taken a squire, that could work.” He says has he rubs his chin in thought.

_He might take one of my nephews, better than Robin Arryn, the boy just wants to play with the dragons. But that begs the question, why did Doran ask us here?_

“Is that what we are now, squires and servants? How utterly boring.” Arianne says.

“That’s enough, this King is young, but he cares for us. He mourned for his brother and sister, our blood as much as his, and he delivered justice to the Lannisters for it. I have no more to say about it.” Doran says.

They are listening now, they know Doran has something to say.

“My condition has gotten worse, and I am no longer able to walk properly. I wished to draw you here so that I can name my successor, and prepare for when it is time to leave this world. I want to enjoy these Water Gardens and not allow it to become just a beautiful prison. I am not there yet, but I can die happy knowing that I would leave Dorne in good hands.”

“I am satisfied that the crown will respect our sovereignty, and the King has upheld every word that he gave us, when he came to us seeking an alliance. I think we have a better standing with the King and Queen than any other kingdom, even perhaps the North. Let us not tarnish that relationship.”

“Arianne Martell, I name you my successor. You will lead Dorne, and ably at that. Your cunning and ambition, while necessary at times, those things can defeat you if you are not careful. Don’t be so impulsive, and maybe you can find someone to share your life with.” Doran says.

Arianne scoffs, “I only share with my cousins, father. And that is because I dare not kill them.”

He interjects now, “I saw the way you were looking at the King, I’m certain you would share with the Queen if you got the chance.”

She hits him on the shoulder. “As would you.” Arianne returns.

“Who is this King, that could tame Oberyn and Arianne Martell? I should very much like to meet him.” Quentyn asks.

“Go then, keep close to your sister and protect her, Quentyn. Arianne, you will go and take Nymeria and Obara with you, as well as Ser Gerold Dayne. Go and swear fealty to the King and Queen.” Doran says, while Arianne looks apprehensive about Ser Gerold.

_She must have taken him as a lover. She’s smart after all and doesn’t want to bring a lover to the capital. Why does she bother and irritate me so much? Probably because she’s just like me._

“Before we go brother, I believe you owe me on our little wager. I have more power than you as Master of Whispers, and you owe me one hundred gold dragons.” He says to Doran.

Doran rolls his eyes, and then takes out a coin purse out of his surcoat and throws it to him.

The rest of the Martells start laughing. “You mad fuckers, you were betting on such a thing, you bastards. I’m proud to call you my family.” Arianne says with a bright smile.

They saddle up with their retinues and ride for the capital.

After riding for a while from Dorne, Ellaria speaks to him. “What did your brother say, lover?”

He fills her in on the meeting and she is happy to have a woman as heir to Dorne.

He doesn’t stand on ceremony and goes to sneak in the capital without anyone seeing him. He and Ellaria are used to this situation, and they enjoy it just like they are children.

_Can’t be the Master of Whispers without a little mystery._

He gets close to his chambers and he notices something is off with his door. Someone is here and looking for me…Well maybe they didn’t know he had snakes…He is the Viper after all, have to live up to the name…

Two thuds hit the floor in his room and he silently enters. It was two members of the Faith Militant. Poisoned by the snakes and dead now.

_Looks like they were that stupid. They are probably out looking for him with the retinue of Dornishmen that came to Kings Landing._

It brings a smile to his face, time to play.

There are twenty members of the Faith Militant standing around his family, looking for him. One of whom is a Lannister, with his blond hair sticking out like a sore thumb.

_They didn’t plan this out too well._

“Here I was bored, I was thinking peace is nice, but who wants to come and fuck with my family, and for what?” He yells behind the robed men. They turn around and look at him, shocked that he was not among the Dornish retinue. Now Nymeria and Obara pull out their spears and are ready to defend their father. Gerold Dayne pulls out his sword to defend the Dornish as well, and Quentyn gets in front of Arianne, to shield her, but they both have their sword and dagger, respectively, at the ready.

“Oberyn Martell, you are under arrest for charges of fornication, adultery, and illicit behavior.” Lancel Lannister says.

“Who is going to arrest me?” He says as he pulls out his spear.

“We are.” Lancel says as the armed zealots ready their weapons.

“I hope you’ve got more men than that, we are few, but the twenty of you couldn’t wipe our asses.” He says as his retinue laughs at the men surrounding them.

“Come along quietly, or there will be violence.” Lancel says.

“Violence? I take it you have never been to Dorne then, that would be one of our great pleasures, especially a Lannister man. Seeing a blond head roll in the dirt would just make my cock hard enough to want another daughter.” He says to them.

Lancel holds up his hand and forty more faith men come running along, further stacking the odds against him.

“Now it might be a contest. You probably should have consulted the King and Queen before you came to dance with a viper, boys. For one thing, we are outside the walls of Kings Landing, and for another, you are not powerful enough to tangle with me. We could hide your bodies out here and no one would ever know.” He says as he looks at each one of the men’s faces.

“The faith recognizes only the Seven, and the power is bestowed upon the crown by the faith, Prince Oberyn, Master of Whispers.” Lancel says, his men subsequently nod their approval.

One of the faith men come running forth, he starts the conflict. The robed man starts to swing a spiked mace at Obara and she kicks him in the chest, using her legs to push him farther away from her and springs back with her spear in throwing position.

Obara throws the spear through his head, and then quickly readies another.

“Do I need to fuck anyone else with a spear?” Obara says.

Ser Gerold Dayne starts to get excited now, the Darkstar ready to cut down any of these robed men and he starts heading towards the bulk of their forces, with Dawn ready for blood. He never liked Ser Gerold, but right now they are on the same team.

A shadow overcasts them now and a roar, along with a big gust of wind, silences the crowd. It’s the Queen’s dragon, somewhat bigger than he remembers, and he lands in the circle of the men in robes. The dragon is daring someone to approach him and the circle of men now step back. Drogon, snarling and teeth bare, now stares down the robed men, but they don’t run away.

Quentyn goes a little closer to the dragon with curiosity, but before he does, Arianne puts her arm across his chest to stop his progress, shaking her head quickly at him.

He notices the green dragon, Rhaegal is flying above, observing the scene, and appears ready to defend the other dragon.

_It must have been the bloodlust that brought them here. Plenty of that to go around. I thought that they were smarter than this. The dragons could kill all sixty of them in a few moments._

“I do believe you were saying something, violence was it? Come along quietly, or something? Do you still hold the same position?” He asks the men.

He can very visibly see almost each man of the Faith Militant gulp out of fear.

“Looks like you are going to have to arrest Drogon as well, you didn’t plan this out very well, you dull cowards.” He says as the men start laying down their arms in surrender. Drogon keeps them in place for a time, burning one of the men that start to run away, his robes and body reduced to ashes quickly.

After some time of the Faith Militant avoiding the dragon, two Kingsguard come forth, Ser Alliser Thorne and Ser Jaime Lannister along with the King’s white wolf, Ghost. Suddenly each person around starts kneeling and the Queen, Daenerys comes forth, with an armored black and red dress and a small sword on her hip.

The men of the faith don’t immediately kneel, but they do so after Drogon grabs one of them and eats him, breaking him in half before the roasting the two halves of his body.

“Remember that you asked for this men of the Seven, run along and go tell his high holiness to come and see me in the small council chamber. We have much to discuss.” Daenerys says and walks up to Drogon, stroking his snout.

Drogon flies away, and the Queen walks back to the Red Keep, she must have been visiting the orphanages when this took place in order to have been so close.

Ser Alliser follows closely behind her, and Ser Jaime shakes his head at Lancel before he walks away as well.

“Welcome to Kings Landing.” He says to his family staring on in shock. Arianne is smirking, probably happy for the excitement, Quentyn looks like he’s still looking for the dragon, Gerold Dayne is disappointed to not have something to kill, as are Nymeria and Obara.

They share a laugh and a Dornish red together before entering, and heading in to the capital for Arianne to gain the King and Queen’s approval.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

At the Small Council chamber debating with a Septon is not where she wants to be, but the Queen must speak to the High Septon before he gets himself killed.

_He’s already working on it by taking some time away from her being here with her husband._

Speaking of her husband, the King, he said that it was not a good idea for him to be there, as he was brought back by the Lord of Light, he was raised with the Old Gods, and their ancestors have been using the Faith of the Seven. Not to mention he was counseled on all these things by his dead father, that died before he was born. He did invite Ser Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr, as well as Robb Stark to talk this overly zealous Septon down.

“Oberyn Martell is a sinner, Your Grace.” The High Septon says.

“That doesn’t give you the right to arrest him.” She replies.

“The Seven is clear on the boundaries of man, and what is natural, and what is good.” The Septon accuses.

The Septon continues, but she keeps staring at the spot where her husband took her on this very same table and it brings her heart fond memories. She thinks she hears the words blasphemy, Mother, Father, justice and mercy. But she can remember the smell of his musk, and the way her fire burned, warmer than any day on the Red Waste desert. However, duty brings her back to the present moment, raising her temper at this stupid man.

“Oh, is that so? Were you in the capital when the King was fathering bast- children all over Westeros?” The Septon nods.“Or when his son, that wasn’t even his son ordered the children killed? How about when the idiot was beating and killing innocent people all over the capital? Did you feel a need to arrest anyone at that point? Your hypocrisy is as blazing as Beric Dondarrion's Sword. I have spoken to a tree before, and we all saw the dead man that was once King Joffrey.” She says matter-of-factly.

“Aye,” Robb and Beric Dondarrion say.

_She understands why Jaehaerys wasn’t here now. He would kill him without a second thought and that would indeed begin to sway the people against them. They are not Aerys, nor are they Lannisters._

The Septon opens and closes his mouth before finally trying to speak, but she is not trying to hear it.

“We grew up with the Old Gods, and we don’t think you should be arresting people that didn’t harm anyone, especially seeing all the other ‘sins’ that you over looked, Septon.” Robb Says.

“I have died six times and Thoros has brought me back each time, and he is quite the accomplished drunk.” Beric says.

“The lord gives me powers I don’t understand, while I drank myself into his service, I don’t have much room to speak, but I know you have no room to be trying to arrest anyone.” Thoros admits.

“I have been the one defending you, High Septon, as I grew up thinking fondly of the Faith of the Seven, but right now you disgust me. This cannot go unpunished. You may keep practicing your Faith of the Seven, but you must be punished.” She tells the Septon.

“What punishment did you have in mind, Your Grace?” The Septon asks fearfully.

Now she flashes him a smile, he finally asked the right question.

“Are you familiar with the walk of atonement?” She asks, still smiling brightly.

The High Septon looks like he’s about to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lovely readers.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion learns the value of one gold dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You won't like this chapter if you like Tyrion.

Tyrion Lannister

There are worse things in life, that’s what he has to tell himself.

He should have been at Casterly Rock, but he can’t go because his father disavowed him.

That was actually kind of a favor, since when he tried to spend some coin around the capital, the prices were higher for the name Tyrion and Lannister.

Also, he has very little coin. He spent it all, everything he had. The King and Queen, well the Queen really, saw to that.

He can only get one job and one job alone, no matter what. Shoveling shit.

That is his occupation, the only thing that he can do, per orders of the Queen. Not a single person is willing to disobey these orders.

He repaired the sewers running through Flea Bottom at the monarchs requests, well their demands really. He dug a trench from there to the same alcove that Ser Davos used to smuggle him into the city. This area is now known as Tyrion’s Pit. He is the only one that gets to operate this area, gaining him the title of Royal Shit Shoveler.

Tyrion’s job to shovel it and combine it with dirt and grains and turn it to fertilizer. The Imp’s Delight it is called. What an insult. He can’t get the smell out of his nose, but by now he is used to it. The capital itself no longer smells so horrid, now it’s just him.

He is responsible for one giant latrine pit, and when it overflows, the excess is collected and that’s where the fertilizer comes in. It flows over into the dirt, but it goes into the sea if it gets too high. It’s a highly effective system. He’s proud to have at least one accomplishment, even if it is this.

He fell into the pit once, and it took him weeks of washing in the water of the sea, and since soap costs a hefty price, he chose not to buy any.

_Not giving up food for soap. I would sell my hand for some wine right now, however. But when he asked about it, they would only give him one gold dragon for any part of his body. Not enough._

He gets one gold dragon per day for this, shoveling business. It may sound like a lot, but the monarchs made it where that’s the cost for anything he wants to buy.

If he wants food, it’s one gold dragon. Clothes, one gold dragon. Anything he wants to buy in order to live, one fucking gold dragon. Wine and whores, though, they are five gold dragons for him. That means that he has to not eat for five days in order to get wine or visit a brothel.

He went five days without eating once, and went to visit a brothel, but they wouldn’t let him in a room since he smelled so bad, and they took his coin anyway.

_At least they gave me food when they tossed me out, I found out that I can’t last six days, that’s my limit._

Also, if he wants a horse and carriage, that’s seven gold dragons. So to go anywhere, anywhere at all, he has to be hungry for seven days. Not hungry, as it was previously known, a mild inconvenience for your average Westerosi. No, this is real hunger, that threatens to turn you ravenous. He can now understand what a wild animal does to survive, and their necessity to hunt.

_Since I have all the shovels I could ever want, I could get a hammer to beat it into a weapon and go hunt. I could turn it into a spear and learn to hunt, that’s what any other person uses isn’t it?_

He heads to a shop after receiving his coin for the day.

“I’d like to buy a hammer.” He says to the shop keep, he had to search around for one that has a hammer.

“Two gold dragons.” The shopkeep says after looking him up and down, and then holding his nose.

_Fuck._

He watches another patron come in looking for a hammer, and the visitor gets it for a copper. Of course he does. No one will take a copper from him, at all. He tried on a few occasions. He turned his gold dragon into coppers and silver stags, and it got him nothing. Neither silver stag, nor copper will get him anything. He couldn’t eat that day. They are useless to him.

_Maybe it’s me that’s useless._

Every once in a while, Tyrion’s Pit will get a visitor. Bronn comes to make fun of him, and it actually highlights his day. He is the one that gives him the gold dragon for the day, holding his nose all the while. Even more rare, he will get an invitation to see an event, at the capital. It makes him all the more excited, as he searches for any vestige of power that he can use to get wine. He used to want power, respect, love, and information. Now he wants wine.

“You finally found something that you’re good at,” Bronn says.

“I’m good at lots of things, actually, I just didn’t get the chance to-”

“You aren’t shit without your Lannister name,” Bronn says while looking around at the scenery of the area, “well I guess that’s a poor choice of words,” Bronn says and chuckles.

_Maybe I could convince him to-_

“I see that look on your face, don’t even try it. You are nothing, you are worse than nothing, you are, just a shit bag.” Bronn continues laughing.

He stares at Bronn threateningly. But it doesn’t change anything, in fact it seems to make it worse.

“Lose the shitty attitude there, dwarf,” Bronn says. He keeps thinking of banter to send his way, scratching at his head, thoughtfully.

“You’re full of shit, you know.” Bronn finally says.

“Yes, yes, I get it.” He returns.

“Well I got something to cheer you up. You have been invited to outside the Red Keep to view the walk of atonement.” Bronn says with a smirk.

“Walk of atonement? Where you walk naked on the street to someone having a bell ringing behind you screaming ‘shame?’ That’s terrible, that’s not something that anyone should have to do, it’s horrid, and embarrassing. Let’s go, quickly.” He says.

Bronn just laughs at him. “You get to see someone else’s misfortune and that’s what makes you happy? You are more like your Lannister family than you said, dwarf.”

His invitation included a bath. When he walked in to the bath house, everyone ran out for fear of the smell.

_I didn’t know I smelled that bad._

He bathes himself now, and it feels great, the warm water, the soap, he’s actually slightly impressed at the shape of his muscles after doing all that shoveling that he has done. Maybe he will try to go and visit a brothel after that.Starve for five days? Mayhaps he can make his one meal last that long, and save his coins. His thoughts are broken as he hears armor clanging in the background and wonders if it’s time or if he has an escort.

After he dries himself, he goes out of his chambers and sees Jaime there waiting on him. Of course it’d be Jaime.

“I’m glad you didn’t have to see me like I was before the bath.” He says to his brother.

Jaime looks on with a look he can’t quite place. Sympathy perhaps? No, that’s not Jaime, but he remembers Jaime has been a prisoner before.

Jaime hands him a letter, with a Targaryen seal.

He opens it quickly.

_My Lord Hand,_

_Your brother told me he heard that the King shits, and the Hand wipes. Queen, in this instance. I thought that was a good fit for you. Well I guess you aren’t a Lord anymore, nor are you a Hand. What are you now? The Royal Shovel? The master of Sewers? I thought you needed a break from your activities so I invited you, well my husband asked me to, honestly. Thank him. However, you know the deal by now, I assume. You don’t get to speak, you don’t get to plan, unless it’s in regards to the royal sewer system. I brought you a pen and parchment to take notes on the capital, and I may perhaps look at them, since you do have a functioning mind sometimes. In any case, that will be one gold dragon. You’ll have to choose between eating, and the chance at seeing the Red Keep again, for one day. Choose well._

_Queen Daenerys Targaryen_

After reading the letter again, he looks up and sees his brother staring directly at him.

Jaime is standing there with his hand out. He places the gold dragon in his hand, and then looks away. Jaime wants to say something, but he seems apprehensive about it. Jaime hands him the parchment and paper.

_Will I make plans to overthrow them, or shall I just follow my plans? I want wine, and I’m near the point where I will do anything to get it. I need to feel the sting of the wine upon my lips, and I need it soon._

Jaime gives him a knowing look. He would know because he was just like that with Cersei. Maybe the stain of great Lannister men is addiction, Tywin to power, Jaime to Cersei, but Tyrion to whores and wine.

_What a sobering thought._

A speechless Jaime is not a vision that he ever even dreamed of. No japes, no insults, he’s almost insulted by the fact the he hadn’t been made fun of.

“Don’t do anything stupid, little brother.” Jaime says, with his shimmering armor, a dragon sigil on the chest. His shaved blond hair has him looking like the golden brother he always remembered.

“Do you still love me, brother?” He asks Jaime, gauging for a reaction.

“Always, Tyrion, you are asking the wrong question though.” Jaime returns.

Jamie puts his hand on his shoulder.

“What question should I be asking, dear brother?” He asks Jaime.

“Do you still love yourself?” Jaime says.

He doesn’t answer.

_Did I ever? Now that’s a question everyone should ask isn’t it?_

“You enjoy seeing me like this?” He asks his brother.

“What, clothed, and sheltered? Have you been hurt? You have coin, and you still live, they could do worse to you but this teaches you the value of life and money. What you are going through is still better than the life the people in Flea Bottom had under Joffrey, I must say.” Jaime returns.

“Did you bring me any wine?”

“I’d lose my other hand.”

“Any whores outside there waiting for me?”

“Same, they’d take my hand.”

“Since when have you followed orders, Jaime?”

“Let’s go, Tyrion.”

They head together to the event.

There they are, Jaehaerys and Daenerys Targaryen looking like beautiful monsters. All the worst monsters are beautiful after all, except for him. He just had a brain, but not smart enough to take a dragon, not anymore.

He hates that. It was his failed plans and plots that got him here to this point.

“A sinner comes before you today.” The Septon says nearly in tears. “This sinner, thought that he could arrest innocent people, and hold them captive for no good reasons. From here on, the only crimes, are those that harm others.” The crowd cheers. “No man of the Seven will bother those that did not hurt anyone, just because it offends our faith. All the monstrous things that happened in the capital, happened under our watch. We have no right to arrest anyone. We sincerely apologize for any harm we have caused,” as he looks at Oberyn Martell with a bell in his hand, “and we will not bother anyone that does not partake in harmful behavior.”

The King looks disinterested at the situation, but the Queen looks serious and contemplating. All he can think of is how beautiful she looks. He hasn’t had or seen that many women in many moons, although it feels like years. He understands how Jorah feels, a bit.

It fills his lecherous heart with lust and he writes these details, embellished a bit to reflect his desires. It brings a devious smile to his face.

She looks better than he remembers, maybe it's the time in the capital, or the bond to the dragons. He sees that her breasts look bigger than he remembers, but the dress she is wearing, black, with some grey underlining and a red cape. Her hips look wider than he remembers as well. As he looks closer, he can see the small size difference in her dress to cover her stomach. She must be pregnant.

Was he paying that much attention to her? Of course he was, he was in love with her after all. The King did it, of course he did. That bastard boy turned King is an anomaly of the highest order. With him by her side, they will not fail at anything.

_Good for them. He is in no position to give advice._

Now he’s distracted by the Septon being de-robed and marched up the streets naked.

“Shame. Shame.” He hears while the Dornish procession, as well as the other Septas and Faith Militant oversee the event.

He sees the King and Queen conversing, still looking like they are very much in love.

“Shame! Shame!” The crowd cheers as a small bell is rang behind the Septon.

A few people on the sides of the procession grab at the naked man. With one or two smacking him on his ass.

“This is preposterous, we still have a ways to go before we get to the Sept of Baelor.” The High Septon says.

“Shame!” The Septa yells right in his face.

“Remember this when you counsel women about being touched improperly, Septon.” One of the Dornish women say.

“Shame.” Is now ringing in his ear. The Septon is nearly back to the Sept now, completing his walk, this one is different because the walk is taken to the Sept rather than from it.

A drip of slobber on his shoulder, accompanied by a growl, threatens to scare the piss out him. Now he hears panting and fast paced, open mouth breathing. A Wolf.

He turns slowly around to find out what is behind him and as he expects, it’s the white wolf. He starts to wipe the slobber off of his new clothing and he spots the King and Queen with a glass of wine in the King’s hand.

_If the King asked me to suck his cock right here and now, in front of all these people, I would do it, for that glass of wine. He licks his lips at this thought and Daenerys gives him an understanding look._

“Don’t worry Tyrion, so would I.” She says.

He forgot his place and once he realizes, he immediately kneels to them. This doesn’t affect them in the slightest.

“Your notes?” The King asks.

He reluctantly hands the paper to the King. His material for later when he spills his seed in his hand.

_Fuck. It was a test. If I weren’t so lecherous, I might have a glass of wine right now. I’m not half as smart as I thought I was._

The King reads it, and contemplates. “I must say it’s true. She is beautiful, however, she doesn’t particularly like getting her hair pulled.”

“Unless it’s by you.” The Queen replies.

They kiss briefly.

“The price of wine just went up to six gold dragons for you. Gold coin for your thoughts? We may use one of your suggestions. Don’t want to steal a mans ideas without paying him.” The Queen says and flips him a gold dragon. He catches it like his life depends on it.

He can’t stop staring at the glass of wine now. The King walks closer to him.

The King pours the glass of wine on Tyrion’s head. He wanted that glass more than life itself. Even the smell makes him happy.

It stains his clothes and he tries to suck the wine out of the cloth of his shirt, but not much is gained by this.

The King hands him a fresh pair of clothes, tied up in a sack. He takes it. “Remember what you are, Tyrion, and wear it like armor, maybe it won’t hurt you.” The King says cryptically.

_What does he mean by that?_

“Fuck off.” The King says.

He knows an order when he hears one.

He makes it back to Tyrion’s Pit, and he can see why no one wants him around, as the smell of shit floods his nose. It was worse than he thought. At least he got to see her.

He falls asleep in his tent, after he spills his seed from jerking his cock.

The next morning he wakes up, and gets a shovel so that he can work since the pit is overflowing and he needs to take the excess to make more Imp’s Delight, the name of which makes him want wine more. He puts on the new clothes from the King and nothing is out of place about it, which surprises him. He had thought that there would be something off with the clothes, because the King had told him to remember what he was, and wear it like armor. No matter now, time to shovel.

After a short time of working, and the sun beating down on him, he starts to sweat, just like any other day.

When the sweat hits his new clothes however, the clothes get sticky and starts clinging to his body. He can’t get it off. They will have to be cut off of him, but there is no one that would do that for him. The clothes are strongly stuck to his body, and now upon grabbing at them, he notices that the outside is sticky as well, he doesn’t see the point of this. Sticky clothes, that would only mean that…when something touches his clothes it will stick to him and since he can’t take the clothes off, it will be there for a long time.

He realizes that he’s surrounded by shit now.

_Don’t fall in. I’m used to it by now._

He works for a while, and surmises that there will be no gold dragon for today. Bronn usually shows up by midday. He’s still got the one from the Queen though. Maybe that’s why no coin for today.

The green dragon flies over him and he admires it, such dangerous creatures, but they have always fascinated him.

Rhaegal swoops in on him and yips at him a few times. Nothing serious, as of yet, but he’s actually glad for the company, since no Bronn today. After a few more yips the dragon takes flight, away from him and the smell, but not before swooping back down and kicking him into the latrine pit.

Now he’s got shit all over his sticky clothing and it will be there for a long time, since he can’t get those clothes off. He knows that the sea water will not do anything for him. It is there to stay, but that’s not the worst of it.

The worst part is that after that ordeal of swimming through shit, and making it back to the top, he no longer has his gold dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought up this stuff. I never really expected anyone to read it, but thanks if you do.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon, Sansa, and Catelyn get back to Winterfell.

Theon Greyjoy

Standing outside the Great Hall of Winterfell is a rude awakening. Theon does not want to get killed by the angry northerners. It’s a strange thing because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, so he’s not afraid. Ramsay is dead, nothing to worry about compared to that.

It pains him to not hear Maester Luwin, and Ser Rodrick speaking, but he was the cause of their demise.

Rickon, the young boy that he nearly killed is holding court, with a gathering of mostly old, angry northerners. Not the place for Theon to be, but here he is.

_I have to face justice sometime._

He does not dare to show his face in the Great Hall. The Ladies Catelyn and Sansa look at him with sympathy, Sansa more so than her mother.

As awkward as this situation is, seeing the old, grey stone walls of Winterfell makes him remember all the horrible thoughts he had before. Desiring to steal Sansa, seizing the castle, thinking himself a prince, fancying himself better than all of them. It’s horrible, but he remembers all those thoughts that he had when he was trying too hard to be a Greyjoy.

Never forget who you are or what you were, he tells himself.

He made promises to Robb, and broke them all. What kind of prince is that?

_Was I more of a bastard than Joffrey, maybe even Ramsay?_

_The thought makes him shudder._ He watches Ladies Sansa and Catelyn walking into the great hall, as if they own the place, but he stays outside. Finally, after a few minutes, he dons a hood and goes inside the great hall to see as they had discussed, hiding his loathsome face from the North.

Rickon, the boy he nearly killed, is sitting with a wooden helmet, lined with metal on the edges, and tiny spikes on each side of the helmet. The helmet is too big for his little head, but he keeps it on, with it slipping over his eyes from time to time. He looks just like he belongs to the Mountain Clans with that helmet on, and the look in his blue eyes just as wild as the Stark children’s wolves. He as a black coat of fur on his shoulders, as well as a black leather tunic, with a direwolf sigil on his chest.

As Sansa and Catelyn approach Rickon, they are staring at each other with disbelief. Osha is looking at them with a softer look in her eyes, but still skeptical. “Your mother and sister, little Lord, you told me about them, remember?” Osha says, but getting no closer to the Ladies.

The commotion in the Great Hall dies down a little, but he can tell that the Stark ladies don’t hold as much weight as they used to. Jon being King has set in then, most likely. Sansa seems to hate this fact more than Lady Catelyn does.

While they approach Rickon, looking to show him affection and love, he turns away from them and goes back to the head table, not bothering to show them any affection.

“Why are you here?” Rickon says, standing behind the table.

Greatjon Umber interjects now, “Young Stark, that is no way to speak to your mother.”

Rickon’s dark direwolf now gets up and silences the great hall. The Wolf starts growling, and the cold stone floors start rumbling along with the growl. A few of the Lords start to tremble with fear. Osha gets a weapon out to defend her little Lord, but Rickon shakes his head at her.

“It’s okay, Shaggy, Osha, Bran says Greatjon is not a liar. It’s the Smalljon that lies.” Rickon says while stroking Shaggydog’s fur. “You forgot the rules, Lord Greatjon, I forgive you, because ‘your meat is bloody tough,’ that’s what Bran says.”

_Looks like Bran really is speaking to him after all._

“The rules are, you don’t get to speak until I’m sitting down in the big chair, it’s okay, you forgot, I’ll remind you.” Rickon says with a childish smile.

The Lords get quiet.

Sansa and Catelyn look at each other. They don’t know what to make of this.

“Rick, we are here to help you.” Sansa says.

“Wait until I sit in the big chair.” Rickon says. The youngest Stark now goes and waltzes over to the chair of the Great Hall, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He starts grabbing on his fur coat, then finally he looks at Sansa and speaks.

“My name is Rickon, and help me with what?” He returns.

“Running a castle, handling the Lords. I’m supposed to be the Lady of Winterfell.” Lady Catelyn says.

“I have been doing that already, and Bran and Osha tell me the truth. Bran, Robb, and Jon say you are liars. I don’t like liars. You can be the Lady of Winterfell, but that doesn’t mean that I have to listen to you.” Rickon says directly.

“Rickon Stark, I am your mother and-“

“You left me. You would not have even come back if it wasn’t for Jon. Robb either, I saw it, Bran showed me. Jon did all that for you, and you hated him. I saw him raise an army to try and save me, he faced a whole army just for his little brother. Sansa even lied to him. You are liars.” Rickon accuses.

They don’t respond to that, no wonder they didn’t mention it on the ride north, they didn’t come back for Rickon, they got sent back unwittingly. They were commanded by either Robb or the King, maybe both.

_Hopefully Rickon doesn’t know I’m here._

“Jon raised another army to fight the dead men, and you sat in the crypts, hating another person that was outside saving you. Jon’s wife and she has dragons, I love Jon, he would have broken his Night’s Watch vows to save me, that’s what Bran says.” As he points to Sansa. Now he looks to his mother. “Robb told you I needed you, when I was crying and trying to follow him around. I don’t need you anymore, I hate you.” Rickon says, with the helmet falling back down over his eyes, and he picks it back up to look at his mother and sister.

They look down at their feet.

“Why should we care for the King’s wife, young Stark? She has no Northern blood and she hasn’t seen the North, yet.” Galbart Glover asks.

“If a Northman bends the knee we respect it. We respected Ned’s decision, why not Robb?” The Greatjon responds.

“They are the only King and Queen that have ever been beyond the Wall. And we call ourselves Northerners...” Lady Mormont scoffs.

“My family left me, Jon would have been here if he wasn’t sent away...” Rickon says.

“I’m sorry, Rickon.” Catelyn says. He doesn’t appear to care about this in the slightest.

“I’m…I wish I could take it all back…will you forgive me?” Sansa asks sadly.

“Bran says that forgiving is for people that don’t lie. I believe him now, he had to learn so he went to the tree. I hated him at first, but I forgave him when Osha told me about the dead men. He was trying to keep me away from the dead men, but he didn’t know the Karstarks and the Umbers were liars.” Rickon now eyes the Greatjon, and Rickard Karstark, and they look away from him. “Father always told us that Northmen were loyal, he lied too. I wanted to hate him too when he left, but Bran says it’s no good to hate dead men.” Rickon says and shrugs nonchalantly, and finally, he readjusts his spiked helmet and goes to sit at the head table.

“Okay, Lord Greatjon. What did you say?.” Rickon says, sitting in the chair, he has apple and lemon cakes, candied plums, and honeyed fruits sitting in front of him. He is deciding which sweets he wants while he waits for the Lord to speak.

“You shouldn’t talk to your mother that way, she didn’t know what would happen and she did nothing wrong.” Greatjon Umber bellows out with a booming voice.

“Aye.” The Northern Lords say.

Rickon now whispers to Osha, and she pulls out one of the letters that she has in her pocket and goes and hands it to Greatjon Umber.

After Greatjon Umber reads the letter, he starts scowling and is straight away jumping out of his seat. The seat slides across the stone floor, making a slight screeching sound. “Lady Stark, I had such respect for you. I used to have your back, and I thought having Ned build a Sept here would keep you respectful, but I can’t abide this, My Lady.”

The Greatjon passes the letter around the room and everyone that reads it, immediately scowls at her.

Finally the letter makes its way to Lady Catelyn, and she reads it. After reading the letter, she storms out of the Great Hall and the northerners shout at her while she is leaving.

_The North Remembers, after all. Good thing I am hiding my face._

“From now on, no one serves Catelyn Stark, she builds her own fires, makes her own baths, and she sleeps in the smallest room in the castle, Jon Snow's old room, from back when he was Jon Snow. She gets to be the bastard now. Orders from Robb Stark.” Dacey Mormont shouts to the crowd.

“Aye.” The Northern Lords say, beating on the table with their fists.

“I have news, North Lords.” Rickon says to them. They quiet down and start to listen.

“The Freys have started to wage war on us, they are bothered by the taking of old Walder’s head by Robb. We will fight if it comes to that, but they are not a threat right now. The only problem is, that my mother lied to them and told them that could marry Robb, a King was what the dead Walder Frey wanted. We can’t be liars my Lords, even if our enemies are.”

“Aye.” The Northern Lords say.

“We will talk about the Freys later, but don’t kill Olyvar Frey, he is not a liar, Bran says. That’s more than I can say about some of you. Invite Olyvar to Winterfell and we will talk to him. If they attack you, then kill them, that is all I can say for now Lords.” Rickon announces.

“Aye.” The Northerners respond.

“Theon is here, Lords, he was a liar before, but the Boltons, they beat him. Nobody should have to beat you to not be a liar, but Theon had his liar beat out of him. Bran says not to kill him.” Rickon says.

The northerners start beating their fists on the table, they want blood for the people that he killed, including those farm boys that he hanged and burned.

Rickon now points directly at him. “What do you think North Lords, Sansa lied and said Jon’s wife was evil, but Theon killed Ser Rodrick and one of the iron men killed Maester Luwin, they were not liars at all.”

_He knew it was me all along._

The Northerners start beating on the table harder.

Rickon nods his head and a guard comes and grabs Theon by the arm, then removes his hood.The guard brings him to the head table and he looks into Rickon’s childish and sad eyes, staring at him still with his spiked helmet on his head. It gives Rickon the look of a tiny warrior, and he probably needed to be one in order to survive in the wild. He looks around at all the northerners and they are ready for blood, he can tell. This saddens him, they used to be like his family, not anymore.

“Bran says that if you are surrounded by monsters, you have to be a monster or you need to give them something else that isn’t you,” Shaggydog comes forth quickly and claws Theon’s face, leaving deep gashes. It hurts, but he knows pain worse than this, so he doesn’t complain, wiping the blood off with his hands and feeling the sting while his face feels numb. “I thought he was my brother. I didn’t know he was a liar, I’ll leave you with Theon my Lords, but don’t kill him. Come on Shaggy, Osha.” Rickon says and leaves the Great Hall. The doors creak shut.

_Now I’m left all alone with the angry northerners. They start beating on the table again. Then they get up and started heading towards him._

“My Lords, don’t harm Theon. He is one of of us and he protected me.” Sansa says.

The Lords just glower at her.

“The North remembers, Lady Sansa. We remember our friends and we especially remember our enemies. No one kills Northmen and calls himself our friend.” Galbart Glover says.

“Aye.” The Lords say.

“I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell and this is my home. You will not harm him!” Sansa yells at the Lords. 

Dacey Mormont now gets up, “you are not in charge here, thank the gods for that. Now get out of the way, don’t you have a southern prince’s cock to suck somewhere?”

The Lords push her out of the way and Sansa tries to resist them before Dacey blacks her eye and knocks her out of the way. Now they rush Theon.

The last thing he remembers is Greatjon Umber’s fist, Dacey Mormont’s boot, and, Rickard Karstark’s knee.

He got all the beatings that he never got from his father, and all the ones he deserves and needs on this day. At least they didn’t take his manhood, like Ramsay did. Not physically, anyway, but it will be a long while before he can use it again, or walk for that matter.

Catelyn Stark

She thought she understood what it was to be treated like a bastard, she was wrong.

It only took her one day to hate what happened to the King for years under her watch. She wanted to kill someone when she had to do the basic things for herself. The King himself never had once complained, and she made sure to ask whether he did or not.

Sitting in the bath, warming her bones, one of the servants put ice in her warm water, nearly freezing her to death.

She finally made her first fire one cold night, after a long while of trying and failing, and getting scars on her hands, the servants came and put it out, forcing her to spend all night trying to make it again, almost spending the entire night freezing cold.

Most of the time when she gets her meals, the servants serve her the stale and old foods, she eats after everyone else, and they sometimes knock the plate out of her hand when she walks by. She is no stranger to starving herself, but this is too much for her.

All of these things caused her to get a cold, and no one cared after her in the slightest. The servants give her dirty looks when she walks by, and no one, not even the timid Maester Wolkan, will help her much. Sansa tried to help, but she raised a useless daughter.

After she questioned Sansa’s bruised eye, she confronted Dacey Mormont, and she got a bruised eye as well.

“It should have been you.” All the servants said to her after each of these events. Now the phrase is ringing in her head, just like the bells that rang for her grandson, that she won’t see again unless she’s summoned. It makes her bitter, at least it would, if she wasn’t so cold.

Catelyn Stark is now the Bastard of Winterfell. She hates that fact more than she ever hated Jon, now the King. Her ploy to try and get on the Queen’s good side gained her nothing, besides the cold seeping in her bones. Worse than that was that her youngest son correctly identified her true problem, she was a liar.

Sansa…what will they do to her? They got word on what the Queen did to Tyrion Lannister, and while she never liked the little man, she can’t help but wonder what was in store for Sansa.

If they wanted to kill her, they would have. All the times she looked in the sky for the dragons, she found nothing, and that eased her tension a bit. Not going to do it that way then.

She hates more than anything else that Rickon can’t stand the sight of her. He doesn’t hate her as much as he did, she reasons, but that was only because she started giving him sweets. But when he hugged her, it was more like a friend than as her son. She finds herself unable to do anything but weep bitterly at this, not only because she lost the love of most of her children, one of the only things that keeps her going, but she also finds herself hating Osha. The Wildling woman has done nothing but love and protect Rickon and she still is just a jealous, vain woman. After all this time, she is the same person, that actually deserves what is happening to her.

She is also disappointed by fact that the northmen don’t look at her with anything more than disdain either, they used to want to get in her bed, but no longer does a man even glance at her. She was always too vain, her family always told her. Now it rings true.

At least her children are alive. Even that is thanks to the King.

That makes the tears come even stronger.

No one cares.

As she is crying she turns to find a servant looking at her, with not a bit of concern on her face. She has a letter in her hand. The servant drops the letter on the ground, but not before putting the fire out, and giving her a curtsy, and a condescending, “Lady Stark.”

The letter is a summons to the Great Hall.

As she gets to the Great Hall, she sees Rickon, Sansa, with a black eye, Osha, Greatjon Umber, Dacey Mormont and Olyvar Frey. At first glance, she wants to hate Olyvar, but he was always a loyal squire, more loyal than she ever was. He felt like part of the family. 

Rickon has only just taken to her and Sansa over the last few weeks, but only a little. He talks to them now, and that is a start. The problem is now that both her and Sansa have lost the respect of the entire North.

It would have been Robb that did that…the King didn’t have time for her.

This is the price she pays for undermining her son at every turn, in a time of war no less. 

“Olyvar Frey, you are now the Lord of the Twins. Your brothers attacked us, so we killed some of them. There are not that many of you. But, we want to make up for breaking faith with your house, since Robb is now married. What can we do?” Rickon asks, still wearing that helmet that makes him look like one of those Skagos savages.

“Mi Lord, we would request a Northern bride, we want to join our houses. It would keep my family at bay.” Olyvar says.

Rickon is playing with his helmet, touching on the horns and adjusting the helmet before he answers. “Well Dacey is not a liar, she has helped and she can fight, you can have Sansa.” Rickon says while still playing with his helmet.

Sansa is standing up out of her seat. “Rickon, you can’t do this! That cannot happen! I won’t go!”

She herself is speechless, it’s actually a good plan. Robb probably gave him the permission to do it. To make up for the mistake that she had made, promising one of the Starks to them.

“Robb says to give them what they ask, and that Olyvar is a good man, he would take care of you, wouldn’t you, Olyvar?” Rickon asks.

“Yes, Mi Lord, no harm will come to her. We accept.” Olyvar replies.

Sansa is still resisting. “I am your sister Rickon, don’t do this!”

“Sansa, it’s okay, you always wanted a castle, you can be Queen of the Twins can’t you? We don’t want to be liars, it was mother that asked for a marriage for our houses.” Rickon says.

“Jon said in his letter that if you say no then we would have to change your name to Sansa Snow, you don’t want that do you?”

She stops, stunned and full of self-pity, she glances at her mother and then decides to speak.

“This is not fair!” She yells out.

“The Queen with the dragons, Jon’s wife said that I can take it back and you can stay if you tell me the truth right here and now. She doesn’t like liars either.” Rickon says.

“Sansa, did you hate the dragon queen because you wanted Jon for yourself, yes or no?” Rickon asks.

Sansa looks at him dumbfounded, she doesn’t immediately answer. She is blushing, the same as when she saw Joffrey at Winterfell long ago…

_Could Sansa have been as vain as me?_

“No.” Sansa finally answers, she puts both of her hands on the table.

Rickon walks over to her and puts his hand on hers. She is close enough to hear what they are saying and he whispers to her. “Osha saw you in your room touching yourself, I don’t know what that means, but you were saying ‘Jon, Jon’ the whole time. You don’t say someone’s name like that unless you want them, that’s what Bran told me. I told you I don’t like liars.”

He steps back a little now with his hand still on Sansa’s. “Take her.” Rickon says.

Sansa is dragged out of the Great Hall kicking and screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how that turned out, but don't take me too seriously.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King trains fighters.

Brienne of Tarth

Punishing people without killing them. The King and Queen are clearly not showing any signs of being Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King. In some ways they are mad though, and the King is proving that now.

_I’m impressed. He’s all of Jaime’s heroes combined into one man. From the temperament of Rhaegar, the fundamentals of Ser Arthur Dayne, the instincts of Ser Oswell Whent, and more, this King has thoroughly studied those that came before him._

He asserted that when he steps on to the training ground, he was not to be called King, Your Grace, or any other formal title, he could be Jon Snow again, if only for the duration of the sparring session.

The challengers started not taking him seriously, before he started breaking faces and noses. First was Bronn, not yet knighted. He challenged the King, with all of the arrogance of an experienced fighter and he was defeated quickly, surprising Jaime. He expected a closer contest.

Something has gotten into the King, that much is certain, but it appears none of them can stop him from training with the knights and squires on the training ground in the capital. The Kingsguard tried to stop the King from taking his place on the training ground, but that was as useless as trying to charge the black dragon on the Blackwater Rush with a spear.

_I’m spending too much time listening to Jaime. Thinking about him as well._

She blushes at that thought.

The King is pacing back and forth, with each of the knights and fighters standing at full attention. They appear to be fearful, as is she.

“You lot are soft as a featherbed. I could beat each of you, with my non-sword hand.” The King says as he glances at Jaime. “How can you call yourselves knights and squires, or even swordsmen when you fight like this?”

_He’s not wrong._

Lined up on the training grounds is Ser Loras Tyrell, Sandor Clegane, Ser Beric Dondarrion, Robb Stark, herself, Podrick Payne, Bronn, Gendry Baratheon, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Allister Thorne, Ser Gerold Dayne, Quentyn Martell, Oberyn Martell, Ser Jorah Mormont, Nymeria Sand, Robin Arryn, Arya Stark, and Tormund Giantsbane.

None of them say a word. They have never seen the King like this.

Ser Barristan, the Hand of the King and Queen, is overseeing the event, with folded arms, standing behind the King.

Robin Arryn is clearly the weakest amongst them, he is obsessed with the dragons, but he is narcissistic enough to where he will learn swordplay, just to have a chance to play with the dragons. He is probably the first self-appointed ward of the crown in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

“When the dead masses come for us, do you fighters think that you have a chance?” The King asks rhetorically.

They don’t respond out of fear.

“If I was the Mad King himself, and you needed to overthrow me for the safety of the realm, with your family here in Kings Landing, do you think you lot could protect anyone’s family?” The King says while he stares down Ser Jaime and Oberyn Martell. They look down at their feet.

“If you think just because I have a large army, that I will sit on my hands and become another Robert Baratheon, you are all fools. I brought massive amounts of food from the Reach, so that we can survive, but it’s turning you lot complacent. My wife, the Queen, had to watch half of her armies perish against the dead, we will not watch half of our people die. I will not trust my family to you lot as you are now, no matter how good you think you are.”

_What’s gotten into him?_

Ser Gerold Dayne now steps forth, unsheathing the sword Dawn, and readying combat against the King. His grace doesn’t even look at him, the handsome, silver-haired knight of Dorne staring at the King with a bloodthirsty look.

The King glances at him and then continues searching each of the faces present. He gives the Darkstar no attention.

The King had told them that they could attack at anytime, and none of them had dared, except this Ser Gerold. He rushes the King, and nonchalantly, the King, with a rusty sparring sword, disarms Ser Gerold, causing him to hold on to his hand, looks like it must have been painful. The King picks up Dawn, and inspects it, looking over the well crafted, legendary blade.

“Do your utmost to understand your enemy.” The King says, still inspecting Dawn. The Darkstar tries to get his sword back, but the King takes advantage of his shock of being disarmed so quickly and kicks him backwards, making him tumble into the dirt.

“This man calls himself a Dayne, because he was born into that house. You must have stolen this blade. You are obviously not the Sword of the Morning. Ser Arthur Dayne himself, died so that I might live, a true knight, but what in the seven hells are you supposed to be?” The King says to Gerold Dayne.

He starts to scowl. Now he’s angry. The only problem is that the King has that look in his eyes that scares the shit out of everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, other than the Queen. Even Ser Barristan looks afraid.

The Darkstar runs back up to the King, he must have known Ser Gerold felt some odd way about that sword and when he reaches for it again, he pummels him. Now the Darkstar is on the ground being beaten by the King, and no one wishes to do anything about it. Looks like even the Dornish didn’t care for him that much. The Sand Snake, Nymeria, has a curious smile on her face.

“You seem to think you are nothing without this sword, that you didn’t even earn. If that’s what you believe, you really are nothing. At this point, you are weak. I will keep this sword until you earn it.”

“Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, educate this man on the Sword of the Morning, before he dishonors his memory any further.”

The two of them help up the bloodied man, and take him elsewhere.

“The rest of you sorry lot, with me.” The King says.

They readjust and line up in formation.

“Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen will be born in this capital, and I shall do what I can to make sure that his life is not in danger, even if I become the worst King that Westeros has ever seen. Do you understand what I am saying to you?” The King asks while looking into each of their widening eyes.

“Yes, Your Grace!” They all yell. He narrows his eyes with suspicion.

“Now, with regards to the children in this capital. I plan to keep them alive, and no one will be slaughtering them while I still draw breath, but yet it has happened so many times in this very city, just by giving a few soldiers some orders. I will treat them all just as though they are my own children, and I expect the same of you. Do not fail me, or yourselves.” The King announces.

It brings a smile to her face, and she can see it on some of the other faces there as well.

_Long live the King._

Now the King ushers a few of them forward to spar with him, and they step forward reluctantly, they have learned that when he is like this that it’s not a good idea to challenge him.

He ushers Robb forward and defeats him. “Protect your son, Lord Stark, you have some learning to do.” He says after their bout.

He ushers Nymeria Sand forward and after defeating her he says, “You need a better weapon, I could kill you easily, Sand Snake.” He advises the Dornish beauty.

Sparring with Arya Stark, he has more trouble with her since she is insanely fast and cunning, he finally gets the advantage of her when he matches her speed, but uses his power to knock her off balance, much to her surprise, as well as the other fighters present, the implications of having a child has surely affected him. She was surely the more scary of the two of them, she thought up until this point. That’s what happens when you become a dragon, she surmises.

Now several others step forward, namely the Hound and Ser Jorah, they come forward to do battle and he soundly defeats them both, after a time of watching them closely and learning their attack and defense patterns. Both of them are seasoned fighters, and Ser Jorah looked like he wanted to draw blood. The King is smiling after this, because they have noticed that once he learned their patterns, they never stood a chance again against the mad man.

This time each one of them step forward and surround the King. They are just testing his defenses, since there are too many for him to take at once. Ser Barristan arrives and backs up his King, they are back-to-back, defending each other from the lot of them, likely the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, save a few others scattered throughout the country.

Together, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and the Hand, the two most powerful men in the Kingdoms, both figuratively and literally, put on a clinic with their swordplay. The group of them are no slouches, but they are unable to gain much traction on the two beasts in the center of the battle, pretending to be men. Holding off the ten and six of them for a time, although they did get some blows in. Not as many bruises on Ser Barristan and the King, however.

They had been sweating like they were playing in the yard as kids, and everyone had new scars and bruises to show for it. Unbeknownst to them, a crowd had gathered, but they were so engrossed into sparring that none of them had noticed. Still back to back and fighting like monsters, the King and the Hand are smiling. It seems like together they could hold off a host of at least one hundred fighting men. That’s not to mention the dragon and the wolf the King has.

Finally, the King and the Hand put the approaching fighters down, methodically, carefully, and decidedly. They have learned all of the challengers flaws at this point. Once the last two standing are the King and the Hand, the crowd starts roaring with applause.

_We are serving monsters instead of men. Wouldn’t have it any other way._

The crowd now gets silent, as the Queen and Ghost come forth. She has a smile on her face.

“You are a mad man, Your Grace, now come and take me to my chambers so that I may inspect your new found injuries.” The Queen says to him. He smiles at her.

The King dismisses them. The event was from then on known as the Monarch Melee. The Bards love their songs after all.

It was time for her to go seek out Ser Jaime. She needs to be inspected for bruises as well.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

A few bruises, no more, no less. Feels good, and this warm water on his body feels even better.

Even though he is naked, he really feels naked without his crown on. He doesn’t take it off much, the Queen’s orders.

Soaking in the bath, he closes his eyes and lets the water soothe his bones.

A splash on his face brings him back to the moment. He leans his head back to see a violet eyed goddess is looking at him, standing behind him wearing a red robe, with black lining, with that look that sets him on fire.

Dragons do burn sometimes...

“What are you doing bruising up this body of yours, I thought that was for me to do?” The Queen says staring at him directly in the eyes.

“I was teaching those worthless fighters how to protect my, our son. I didn’t want this capital to have the same type of knights that killed our family before. Most of those men were just following orders, but I wanted them to know that even if I was mad, they better protect my fucking family.” He says with a somber attitude. She glances away from him for a moment, but he thinks of something that may cheer her up.

“Plus, I thought I’d give you some more spots to kiss me.” He says to her with a grin.

She turns her eyes back to him and grins back at him.

She leans down and kisses the bruises on his face and on his chest.

“Very good, you serve your King well.” He says to her.

She starts laughing slightly. He raises his brow, wondering what was so funny.

“I’d hate to see what you’d do to punish me if I didn’t serve you well…” She says through laughter.

He has to laugh at that as well.

“Did you see how Tyrion was looking at that glass of wine?” She says trying not to laugh.

“And Robb told me how they were treating Lady Catelyn in Winterfell, she doesn’t know how to build fires and it’s cold up there!” He says.

They can’t stop laughing. It brings a pleasant mood to the bath chamber, where it was simply silent before.

“And Sansa, she gets to be Queen of the Twins, we might have to start calling her the Cold Fish!” She says as they continue their bouts of laughter together.

_This is a family that I would die for._

“Your Grace,” He says once he remembers, “have you seen my crown?” He sticks his hand up her robe and she jumps inadvertently, probably from being examined once or twice by the Maester or a wet nurse.

“I think…it was…over…by…theeee…..” She says distractedly as he feels her wetness.

“I think I found it.” He says with a smile, and finally she gets much closer to him and starts assaulting him with kisses.

Her legs start getting weak, and she starts bending her legs and shaking.

“Are you here to bend the knee to the rightful King of Westeros?” He says to her.

She’s not really listening, but she starts touching him seductively. She nods her head, though he’s quite certain she would have nodded no matter what he had just said. He keeps rubbing against her, then inserting his fingers into her core, with some of the wetness starting to slowly make its way down her thighs. He uses his other hand to touch her breasts, peeling back the robe, but not yet removing it completely.

A knock on the door. He doesn’t care in the slightest.

Grabbing her backside, he guides her directly on to his hardened member, finally removing the robe completely, her belly starting to show the son that he never thought he’d have and it makes him love her all the more. She sits down on top of him, still in the bath, not giving a fuck who’s knocking. They don’t really lock their doors anymore. Most people in the capital have learned by now not to come barging in.

“Ahhh, yes…” She says loudly and she starts moving up and down on him, making his bruises feel non-existent.

“You know…I’ve got some North in me now…” She says while still taking him slowly.

He chuckles.

“You are a depraved woman…” He says as his head lays back with the pleasure shooting through him.

“What, you wanted to marry a Septa? Rhaegal would have bitten her head off…” She says as she bites him on the neck.

“You have a point…” He says as she speeds up, ready to take all of the seed he has stored in his body.

“Dany…I’m…gonna…” He says as he bursts an orgasm out that feels better than most that he’s had before.

Gods he loves this woman.

There were more knocks in between the banter he had with Dany. Once again, he didn’t really care.

Ser Jorah is the one to speak. Poor bastard. He had to hear all that, he’s too much of a masochist to leave and come back. He’d almost feel sorry for him if he didn’t try to damage him on the training yard earlier.

“Your Grace- Graces. Jon Connington is here to see you, he says he has both Euron Greyjoy’s head, and the horn, Dragonbinder.” Ser Jorah says. He had come in to the room, with both of them now out of the bath and in robes. He can’t look away from his Khaleesi, but she hasn’t really paid him any mind.

“What about…Aegon?” He asks Ser Jorah.

Ser Jorah finally looks at him.

“As soon as they got here to the capital, Viserion clawed him a bit, and then snatched him and took him away. Several reports say that the horn was glowing with blue glyphs, and this Euron tried some sorts of sorcery on it. Connington said that he had a Qartheen Warlock, a Red Priest, a Septon, a Maester, and he had the boy captive. He was using their blood for some odd purpose.” Ser Jorah admits.

He and Daenerys glance at each other. They knew Viserion had been acting a little strangely recently, so it makes a bit of sense. What is concerning, though is whether or not this is worse than Viserion being a wight. It has to be, he reasons. Still not exactly good news.

They dress quickly and head into the throne room. The Kingsguard, Ser Brienne and Ser Jaime, outside of their door, follow closely behind them. Ser Alliser joins after a short time. Connington arrived there before them, awaiting them, pacing on the throne room floor with his damaged golden armor, looks like he has been doing battle after all. He is eyeing them both, most likely looking for traces of Rhaegar in the two of them. Either that or he’s bothered by the fact that he has no close relationship with the last dragons. He has a sack in his hands, it looks bloody and worn.

_Must be a head._

Connington opens the bag and shows the monarchs the head. They look over it several times, finally they speak to the man of the Golden Company.

“It’s not him.” He says to Connington. Daenerys nods.

Connington looks shocked that the head looks different from what he saw before. “I was certain it was the Crow’s Eye, but this man looks different. He must have pulled some trickery on us…” He says while eyeing the head suspiciously.

“Ser Alliser, get the word out, be on the lookout for Euron Greyjoy, bring him in dead or alive. I suspect he’s here in the capital.”

His days are officially numbered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserion finds a play thing. Nymeria meets Nymeria. Drowned God in Kings Landing.

Maester Aemon

A dragon is here, but there’s something different about this visit…

The wings are flapping quickly, but this dragon is not happy.

Sitting outside and enjoying the heat from the sun is keeping him young, but that can only last so long…

The sound of wings flapping gets closer and closer, but then the dragon drops something with a thud.

Must be a human, since he hears wailing and hissing with pain.

Finally the dragon lands and the person begins to talk to the dragon.

“Why did you take me here? And why did you have to claw my chest, you damn dragon? It’s still bleeding, I don’t know if this will ever heal.” The boy known as Aegon says. He remembers that voice, looking for traces of Egg, or any Targaryen.

Viserion roars at the boy full voiced, slightly shaking the ground, and he can hear the boy fall down on his back.

“You may want to watch how you speak to him. Dragons don’t take kindly to your tone of voice, today is as good a day as any to die.” He says to the boy.

“He won’t kill me. He could have dropped me on the land or in the sea when we were flying, if he wanted to kill me, I’d be dead by now.” Aegon responds.

The dragon kicks him to the ground and he can hear armor crunching under the weight of the dragon’s claw.

The boy yells out in pain. Today is just not his day.

“I think you owe him an apology, you have clearly offended the poor, innocent dragon.” He says with a grin.

The dragon makes the armor crunch again, this time the boy starts screaming.

“I’m…Sorry!” He yells out at the top of his lungs.

He can now hear the dragon let his weight off of the poor boy, he starts breathing again.

“Maester Aemon, do you know why the dragon brought me here?”

“This is Dragonstone, you know. Where else would you find another Maester, studied in the history and past of dragons?”

“Am I to be his rider?” The boy asks excitedly.

“How did he bring you here?” He asks.

“In his claws.” Aegon replies.

“Have you any dragon dreams, and do you know the dragons name?” He asks quzzingly.

After a long pause, the boy answers. “No.”

“Well then I’m afraid you won’t be his rider, he seems to be curious about you, however. Maybe he wants to be your friend. I actually think that he wanted to eat you, but he changed his mind after smelling a little dragon blood in you.” He says.

He doesn’t answer, but he can almost smell the disappointment.

“I know I’m no dragon now, but you don’t have to remind me…It’s rather a cruel thing, dragon. I don’t want to be your play thing.” Aegon says rather quietly.

The dragon roars again, probably right in the boys face.

“You may want to stop provoking him there boy.” He says to the young man, that has apparently not learned his lesson.

“He seems angry ever since I got back to the capital, with the horn…” Aegon says.

_Now he has my attention._

“Horn?” He asks quickly.

“There was this…horn…in the ruins of Old Valyria, the Greyjoy, called Euron, after taking some of my blood, and the blood of the various sorcerers that he had on board his ship, had one of his saltwives blow the horn and it nearly killed everyone on board the ship, I still feel the burn from when it was blown and the others reported similar symptoms. He mixed our blood together for some kind of…ritual, a foul man he was.” Aegon says with a broken voice.

_He’s telling the truth. A dragonlord horn that survived the Doom. Not only that, but the boy has a modicum of dragon blood. Doesn’t sound like a good mix of probabilities._

“The Dragonbinder…that horn is dangerous, you probably have something in your blood that interests Viserion, a little dragon blood, but not as much as you would like. You have a link with the dragon, a small amount, only because of the horn it would seem, but the effects of what the horn did to you has undoubtedly done has worn off. If you use it again, you are going to suffer, possibly even die. You can no doubt tell, the King wants you to live, although you seem to want otherwise.” He informs Aegon.

Aegon doesn’t answer.

“I have to ask, young man, what exactly were you thinking when you heard the sound of that horn? That may have something to do with why the dragon is attacking you. What are your intentions?” He asks softly.

“There will always be a part of me that wants to be a King, Maester. I can’t seem to shake the thoughts that I belong there. It must be the Blackfyre in me.”

“You have been kissed by Blackfyre before, did that teach you nothing? Are you every bit as ambitious as Daemon Blackfyre, and plan to be a usurper?” He asks.

Again, Aegon doesn’t answer. Viserion roars again, blowing smoke all around them, furiously demanding that the boy speak.

“It would seem, that Viserion wants your answer.” He says, he can’t help but lightly chuckle at the dragon’s antics.

“Viserion…” Aegon says, nearly whispering.

Viserion knocks him down again, he can hear the dragon breathing deeply.

Not for the first time, he curses his blindness. Anyone would love to see this dragon intimidating the poor boy, it brings a smile to his face. He can hear the boy shuffling under Viserion’s weight.

“I asked the King and Queen to make you Lord of Harrenhal, where you could be a Blackfyre, or whatever name you choose, as long as you don’t go the way of Harren the Black. You could choose a bride, possibly a Dornish or Velaryon woman and live your days in peace. What do you say?” He asks Aegon.

Viserion starts sneering at him, with more smoke blowing around them.

“Choose wisely.” He says to Aegon determinedly.

“Why do that for me?” Aegon asks with a somber tone.

“I have taken the measure of your life, you don’t deserve to die, and there are not that many dragons left to fly in the sky because of my house’s arrogance, I don’t wish to repeat those mistakes, nor do I wish to see a boy die for no reason. Do you wish to start a new Blackfyre rebellion boy? Speak now.” He says directly.

“I will be glad to accept. I can be Lord of Harrenhal.” Aegon says.

_A half-truth, but still a lie._

Viserion must clearly know the truth, as he kicks the boy back down to the ground and unleashes a small stream of flame.

The boy starts screaming with pain, his howls and screeches are ringing in his ear now, the same as when a procedure is done to a patient, or when amputating a limb. The boy stops screaming after a time, he’s either dead or passed out. Viserion readies himself to fly away with a big gust of wind that threatens to knock him off of his feet. A few more flaps of the dragon’s wings do just that and now he can’t get up, finally the dragon helps him up with his claws, bringing him back to his feet, and finally flying away, towards the capital, presumably.

He makes his way over to the boy and checks for breathing, he is alive, surprisingly, Viserion used his flame to cauterize the wounds he inflicted on Aegon.

_Remarkable, this dragon didn’t want for the boy to die, just to humble him a bit. He wanted to eat the boy at some point, but he became curious about his blood. Today is not the day for him to die, apparently, you have been judged by a dragon, boy. Scarred and marked, clawed, and branded. Learn from this._

With his hand on the boys neck, checking for vital signs, he is hot to the touch after being burned. Aemon is assured of one thing. This boy is neither Egg nor Aegon Targaryen.

Arya Stark

Standing before the throne, with Nymeria by her side, she looks into her brother, the King’s determined eyes.

_Something must be going on. The Queen even looks like she’s concerned about something._

“We are here for one reason, and one reason alone, Euron Greyjoy…he dies.” Jon says to the crowd of those gathered.

She finds Oberyn Martell, Jorah Mormont, Tormund Giantsbane, and The Hound standing before the throne. A few Kingsguard are there as well. Even Ser Jaime is scowling at the mention of that name. Ser Brienne is here too, she has seen the man before.

_Why do they care so much about this Greyjoy cunt? That’s right…he was the one that forced Theon and Yara out of the Iron Islands, as well the one that betrayed the parlay to get the Golden Company, not to mention he shot down Jon’s dragon._

“I know you must be thinking, why care so much about this one man, but he has the employ of several sorcerers, he can probably hide his own face, and Jon Connington informed us that he blew a dragonlord horn, and since that happened, one of the Dragons has been acting strangely, not only that, but the people that heard the horn blow felt as if they were being burned alive. We will put a stop to him and his worthless life today.” Jon announces.

The Queen nods. She is the one sitting the throne, Ghost right beside her, keeping the Crown Prince safe, and Jon is standing in front of her, brooding as ever, getting used to the burdens of power, no doubt.

_I have got something to say. Got a bone to pick with these two._

The others file out and start to look for Euron. She stays behind.

After the others leave and the door closes behind them, she finally speaks.

“Sansa was married off against her will. I’m not okay with that.” She announces to the monarchs.

Jon comes walking towards her now. He sits at the top of the steps and looks her in the eyes.

“The deed is not done yet, she has not accepted yet, Olyvar Frey, he is a good man.” Jon says.

“That is a name that I don’t really speak. I speak that name and I go into the dark place of my heart.”

“Is that where you were when you indiscriminately killed them all?” Jon says.

“Oh, we’re doing this are we?” She returns. Nymeria heads up the stairs to frolic with Ghost.

“You are telling me you would laugh at the young Jon Snow, and you, Daenerys, are you telling me you would laugh at the Viserys that just sold your mother’s crown?” She points to the Queen.

The Queen looks on with concern, touching her mother’s crown on her head, in silent contemplation of what she said. She can see the lament, concern, and traces of sadness on the Queens face.

“If those fucking Freys hurt her-“ Both wolves start growling at her tone of voice.

“Then the Twins will burn, won’t be the first time I’ve had that desire. It is not certain yet, but Sansa could bring together the Riverlands and the North, since she is both Tully and Stark, with the Twins effectively being the bridge between the two of them. Something that your mother was supposed to do, but she was in fact the one that offered marriage between the Starks and Freys. I will speak to her before that and we will find out what she is made of, we must pay the price for our mistakes, Arya.” Jon says, still on the steps brooding like he could out stare a statue.

“The King speaks true.” The Queen says.

“I know, I can tell you are not lying. She can be a bitch, I know that better than you do, but still, laughing at her, and taking her away against her will, I thought you were better than this. We are not to be teaching our children to laugh at others misfortune are we? She is still my sister, and I don’t think she means any harm, don’t be this way with her. She is not Tyrion, and she does love you, Your Grace.” She says pointedly to Jon.

“Isn’t that the truth.” The Queen says.

_The fuck is that supposed to mean? I’ll find out about that later._

Jon doesn’t immediately respond.

“Aye, you’re right, little sister. Don’t make me out to be the asshole.” Jon says.

He broods for a short time, and then looks back at her.

“Right now, we need to find Euron Greyjoy, you think you can handle that? Afterwards, maybe we’ll fly up to the Riverlands, Rhaegal might be okay with you coming with me.”

_He always knows the right thing to say._

“Let me take Ghost with me, I’ll send him to you, once we find him.” She says to Jon.

He nods in response to her.

Ghost tags along, she is really the wolf girl now, maybe even Princess of the Wolves, if only for a day.

She goes in search of this Euron Greyjoy.

_Will Mercy give the gift to another man? Another face to carve?_

It brings a smile to her face.

The city appears to be quiet on the chatter. Looking around the city, she realizes that she doesn’t know this man. She overheard from that Connington man that he has a Valyrian Steel suit of armor, and that he is called Crow’s eye. She finds the other hunters and they have made no progress, and she finds Oberyn searching through his notes to find any suspicious activity. She makes a sound to let him know she is there. He looks up at her, almost startled.

“You are a dangerous little thing, you could be one of my daughters. You may be a better Master of Whispers than me.” Oberyn says as he grins at her.

“Your daughters can’t fight that well. Maybe you should teach them a thing or two...” she japes back. Nymeria and Ghost are sniffing around, but found nothing suspicious, he has snakes, but they are not stupid enough to go into the jaws of a direwolf. “Found anything, viper?”

“No. I’m afraid not,” _Lie,_ “but I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” _Truth._

She now notices a Sand Snake walk into the room with her father. She knows from training that this one is Nymeria.

_Nice name._

“I can fight, you know. I can’t choose my name, but I can choose my weapons. It just so happens that you are a monster.” Nymeria says as she pulls out a small sword, good thing, because that whip she had was a poor choice of weapon.

Nymeria goes over and sniffs her, then comes back to where her and Ghost are.

“Nymeria likes to hunt. You want to tag along with me? We are hunting a Kraken.” She says as both wolves start growling.

Nymeria looks to her father and he nods to her. “Obara is staying with Arianne, you can go.”

“Since your wolf is named Nymeria, a great choice of name by the way, call me Nym.” The Sand Snake informs her.

“Let’s go Nym.”

_Since Oberyn doesn’t want to give up his secrets, I’ll have to come up with secrets of my own._

She goes to the Godswood, with the two wolves and the Sand Snake.

The face of the tree is still and impassive, it looks like the scenery and overall sense of melancholy makes the Dornish girl a little uncomfortable.

“What are we doing here?” Nym asks.

“Your father isn’t the only one with secrets.” She replies sarcastically.

She came here to talk to Bran many times. He said he didn’t mind because it keeps him grounded, more human than she remembered.

“Bran...are you there...?”

The face starts contorting and finally the eyes of the Heart Tree glance over to her.

“I’m here...Arya Horseface...” the tree says.

Nym starts laughing.

“The fuck you laughing at, sand snake?”

“A talking tree, and it called you horseface. You can maybe fight better than me, but at least I’m prettier than you, you little creature.” Nym says while still laughing.

She joins her in laughter. It was pretty funny after all to those that know her. She’s really laughing because she just thought of all the pranks that she is going to pull on this unsuspecting Sand Snake.

“Bran, can you see Euron Greyjoy, or even show him to me, I’m not sure what he looks like.” She says to the Weirwood.

“The Crow’s eye...I cannot see...his sorcery has hidden him from my gaze...As for what he looks like, the Dornish right next to you would know...If she touches my face, I could show her what she has seen before...”

Nym looks dumbfounded.

“Touch the tree, Nym.” She says to the Sand Snake.

Slowly, and uncomfortably she touches the face of the Weirwood, she looks to be anguished and determined after a short time of holding her head in pain. Just like she was when she first touched the tree. From the look in her eyes now, she can tell that Nym remembers.

“Let’s go and kill that fucker. I know he likes to hurt women, so I have a good idea of where he’ll go.” Nym says determinedly.

Jorah Mormont

Everyone wants to kill Euron Greyjoy. He wanted to since the siege of Pike so he gets his chance today. Longclaw feels heavy in his hands, the first time he’ll get to use it for more that sparring. It feels pretty good to still be a Mormont, he must say. Earn that sword, his father said to him. That’s precisely what he’ll do.

He knows Euron is looking for saltwives to torture and worse, brothels is probably where he will go. He knows the man, he starts looking for rough customers in brothels. Several were reported but this is one sadistic man he’s talking about. He would kill his own family just for the chance to get away, as he saw him do before.

_Have to bring honor to my Khaleesi. Well, not my Khaleesi, the Queen. She is madly in love with this King as well. Jorah must admit she could find no one better, even though he hates that fact. Wrong line of thought, Euron is the one we are looking for._

Finally he finds a brothel that looks similar to a Sept. Euron fancies himself the Drowned God, so this is likely the place. After seeing the shopkeep and the clientele all dead, he sees a scene in the room that disgusts him further. A woman beaten, tortured, and probably raped. She is nearly dead, and it raises his anger and disgust. The next room over he hears what sounds like beating and torture and he makes his way over. The Bear Knight makes his way over to the room in the seven pointed star brothel.

He finds Euron, with all black armor, torturing two women. “You don’t have what it takes to be a saltwife, you’re no good.” Euron says, laughing.

“Leave them alone, Crow’s eye!” He yells.

Euron doesn’t turn around, he continues, without the least bit of attention.

An ironborn comes charging at him, seemingly out of nowhere. He has trouble with him, but finally shoves Longclaw into the ironborn’s heart. Euron is still torturing the girls. They are screaming, as if they are burning, finally he sees Euron pouring some kind of smoldering liquid on them.

_It’s time for him to die._

The Crow’s eye sends another Ironborn his way, it’s two this time. He can’t tell where they are coming from at all. Probably using sorcery to hide their appearances.

_He should have told someone where he is._

Fighting the two ironborn is tougher than he thought, they are lightly armored and a little faster than he thought. One of them is wielding an axe, and the other a crossbow. The axe wielding ironborn is attacking relentlessly, while the other loads the crossbow, he evaded a few times. After he gets a punch in on one of the axeman, he gets a bolt stuck in his rib, and it hurts like all seven hells.

The axeman slashes for his head, and he ducks under it, but the crossbow fires another bolt, into his leg. It’s deep, he can see his armor turning red with blood. The leg is going to be okay, he tells himself. The axeman gets ready to cut him again, and he dodges both that and the crossbow bolt flying towards him. Learn your opponent’s technique. He knew this, but he had forgotten. and grabs a book to throw at the crossbowman. It knocks him off his rhythm slightly, and he takes the chance to cut the man down with Longclaw, while he does that the axeman swings at him and buries his axe into his shoulder. The axe is stuck now and he uses that opportunity to stab the axeman through his head. Ending the ironborn that were attacking him.

_Scars, but not dead. Come on, you are a Mormont of Bear Island, you fight with the strength of three men._

Euron now looks his way. “You can fight Jorah the Andal, but you’ve only fought the weaklings. I knew I should have killed those men. You are in no shape to do anything now. Four more ironborn come forth, they are tougher looking than the last three he killed. As they rush him, two direwolves come forward and maul the ironborn.

Two young girls now come and kill the last two ironborn while Euron watches, and starts laughing. “Look at the little girls go!”

“Ghost. Go get Jon.” Arya Stark says.

The white wolf takes off running.

“You die today.” The Sand Snake says.

They fight, but Euron’s armor is tough, it’s Valyrian Steel. The ripples are beautiful, that armor could probably buy all of Essos.

He tries to swing Longclaw at the armor, and it doesn’t penetrate, only scratches it. Euron smiles, and in the background there is a horn sound, but it sounds like screeching and it makes him feel like he is on fire. Throat and eyes burning, chest and leg hurting, there’s also an axe, still in his shoulder as well.

“You scratched my pretty fucking armor you damn weakling.” Euron says and kicks him in the face.

He blacks out. The blood loss finally got to him...

He wakes up to see The Queen’s violet eyes staring at him, he has to wonder whether he died and went to seven heavens. Then he notices the look of pity on her face and he knows he still lives. The pain then returns to his leg, chest, and shoulder.

Bloodied and bandaged, Samwell Tarly doing the deed of caring for him. He can make out the looks of the King, the Hound, Oberyn Martell, and Tormund. Then he sees the wolves and the two girls that were here before. The sand snake and Arya Stark have minor injuries and are grimacing in pain.

The odd thing is that he hears rumbles outside the building.

_What the hells is happening?_

“Euron Greyjoy, you fancy yourself the Drowned God, where is he now to save you?” The King says.

“He’s in this armor of mine. You can’t penetrate it. All you can do is attack my head, I have all I need need to protect that.” He puts on a helmet now. “You can’t harm me, even with that Valyrian Steel sword of yours.” Euron laughs sadistically.

“The Drowned God even conquers dragons. I knew you would come for me and leave no one watching the horn. You are going to have to tame those beasts, who better than the Crow's Eye? I will take all of Westeros with them.” Euron continues.

“Aye, the dragons are outside rampaging, but you won’t live to see it.” The King says, pointing Blackfyre at Euron.

Euron swings a two handed strike axe at the King. The King quickly moves out of the way.

“You are weak-minded, you need sorcery and tricks to handle an opponent and even they won’t help you.” The King says pointedly.

He hears more rumbles outside, along with screams. Looks like the dragons were affected by that horn.

“I am the Drowned God-“

The King now slices at Euron, scratching his armor again. This infuriates the Greyjoy.

“Another scratch on my beautiful armor! I’ll take each of your tongues before I kill you. What kind of king are you anyway, do you have any balls-“

The King stabs Euron in the arm, making it too weak to use his hand. He’s fighting with one arm now. He doesn’t have a chance anymore, the King’s sword is now glowing red, just a bit. That’s how he penetrated that armor, whatever is happening with that sword...

Euron now drops the smile. After swinging at the king and the king partying easily, the king headbutts Euron, making him drop to his knees.

“Seize him.” The King says. The Hound and Tormund grab the Crow’s Eye by the arms. When he resists, they punch him. Now his single blue eye is staring at the King.

“I have need of a chamber pot, I need to piss.” The King says. He goes and pisses in a bucket. The King looks at the bucket for a second and then comes back to the group.

“I’m going to take your head, Greyjoy.” The King says when he returns.

Euron smiles.

“You should be more worried about the dragons. The people will turn against you, and then your citizens will kill you and your pretty wife will have to find another man’s cock to suck.” Euron says to the King. He looks impassively at Euron.

“Well then, let’s skip the formalities. Euron Greyjoy, I, Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of my name, now sentence you to die. Do you have any last words, please, for your sake don’t mention the Drowned God.”

Euron contemplates this for a time, and then responds.

“I am the Drowned God, you can’t kill me, what is dead may never die.” Euron says.

The King just shrugs at Euron. “Let him go.” Tormund and the Hound look to each other with confusion and then let Euron go. He comes charging at the King one-handedly trying to punch him.

The king grabs Euron by the head and headbutts him two or three times, nearly knocking him out. Euron’s pale blue lips are now bleeding a small bit. The King now grabs him by the head.

He now drags him over to the chamber pot he just pissed in. “I made sure it was full, now let’s see if you really are the God you claim to be." The King holds Euron’s head down in the bucket, Euron is squirming and kicking, but he is is too weak to fight back completely. The King punches him a few times in the head to keep him placated.

Finally, Euron’s movements slow down drastically, and after a time, the movements stop.

“Looks like he wasn’t any God after all, let it be known that this day, Euron Greyjoy drowned, in a chamber pot.” The King announces.

No one present says a word...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was always how I wanted Euron to go...Especially after Rhaegal...


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons and dreams.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion are rampaging all over Kings Landing.

Knocking down buildings, clawing at statues, burning structures, there seems to be no end in sight.

They are not fully grown yet, so that’s a plus. But, she’s not as agile with this growing belly that she has either. Can’t run as much.

It won’t stop her from trying, her children will not harm her. This much she knows. As always since she has been with child, Ghost is right by her side. He will do what he needs to do to protect her and the soon to be born prince. Even amongst the burning rubble, it gives her hope.

Said children are swirling and roaring in the sky, damaging anything that makes loud noises or gets in their path.

_Was this how it looked when I caused all that destruction? This is...in a word...madness...I will not be going down that path..._

She feels a kick in her belly. Looks like little Rhaegar agrees. “Rhaegar, I’m sorry you had to hear them angry like this, it won’t be like this all the time.” She says with her hands on her womb.

She gets another kick in the stomach.

Strong hands come and wrap around her waist, touching the womb where the baby dragon is growing. “Dany, I have an idea of how to calm them.” Her husband says.

Rhaegar starts shuffling and kicking now in her belly, he must love the sound of his father’s voice, just as she does.

_This…family...even after all this time…feels slightly odd…_

“Can you you feel Drogon in your mind?” The King asks.

“I have been trying to reach him, but he is just so angry, it pains me.” She replies.

“I was able to reach Rhaegal for just a moment, and his thoughts are all over the place, he doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening and I think they need us to center them. Not so different from me or you, in some respects.” He says.

_Makes sense. I’ll have to try harder._

Rhaegal flies over and burns one of the bells in the capital, the tower comes crumbling down and the bell is melted and torn in half. Rhaegal claws at the bell and rips it in to pieces after melting it with flames.

Drogon crashes into the Sept of Baelor, knocking a few bricks off of the building, and sending the people running in a frenzy.

Viserion is clawing at a ship on the the Blackwater, ripping tears into the mast of one of the fleet’s ships, chunks of wood and sail are torn off of the ship.

She can feel their anger, and she is fully aware of her own mortality, especially that of the child in her womb. Time to make a choice. Her bond with Drogon is growing deeper and more profound, she can feel it washing over her, but the effects of that horrible instrument are now taking its toll on the capital that she is sworn to protect.

_Much like this life growing inside of me._

When she closes her eyes, the scenery changes, and she sees fire, first a very dark and unnatural flame. A ruined city, destroyed by a force that she can’t seem to identify. Then a green flame is raging in the opposite direction. A cream and gold colored flame is also burning, but it seems different than the other two. The Black and Green flames seem tempered, and controlled to burn certain things but the cream and gold flame is burning, wildly, all around and rather indiscriminately, as if it has no true purpose. The golden flame seems to warm her growing babe, and it feels oddly warm, an unfamiliar sense of heat. She opens her eyes to see her husband and King looking on at her with traces of concern.

This sparks an idea in her head, time to go and be the Mother of Dragons. “I need to go and call them to me, come along with me, my love.” She says to the King. He stares at her, directly in the eyes for a short time, searching her face for emotions, and then nods and accompanies her with not many objections.

_He must have had the same idea._

They make their way together to the dragon pit, empty of citizens, and full of space.

“Drogon! Rhaegal! Viserion!” She calls at the top of her lungs.

Nothing happens.

The rumblings continue.

The King decides to yell their names out as well, the loudest she has ever heard him...outside of...their marital activities...

Still nothing happens.

Maybe it was the visions she saw, so she decides to ask him. “Have you had any visions or dreams recently?”

“I saw, three swords...one Green, one Black, and one Gold colored, I thought it was odd, but I opened my eyes and they were gone.” He replies.

The babe kicks again. He feels that and grins at her.

“Let’s see if we can calm them down shall we?” She says to the King.

As if something told them to do so, they hold each other’s hands, and they both close their eyes. The vision returns of a ruined city, burning and blackened with smoke, desolate and empty of life.

Now she sees the same three flames, also with three swords. Along with this, her husband is present as well, but with the same northern cloak that he bore when they first met. This is probably how he sees himself, at this time. She points at it, and he looks at his clothing surprised, after smiling at her and regaining his confidence, the clothing turns back into black and red armor with a dragon and direwolf sigil, as well as a crown. Suddenly the three swords solidify and and fall to the ground. He picks up the green sword, and it turns into Blackfyre. After putting the ruby-pommeled sword in its sheath, the green flame dies down a bit.

_Interesting, maybe this is all related to what is happening._

Now she tries to pick up the black sword, which likely represents Drogon. It appears too heavy for her to pick up. Jaehaerys tries to help, but the sword is intangible to him. They try together to pick up the sword and it cuts him slightly, just enough to draw a little blood. He then stops trying to handle the black sword.

Still too heavy for her, she goes over to the black flame and tries to touch it with her small finger. The flame simply sticks to the finger, and doesn’t burn in the slightest. She picked up some of the flame with her hands and it oddly continues burning, though not consuming her hands. The King is staring at her, just as surprised as she is. The black sword on the ground now starts glowing a bit.

_That’s right, the green flames stopped raging as hard when he sheathed his sword._

She takes the flames and places them on that heavy black sword, and it starts glowing brighter, it got a little lighter. Taking the remote flames over to the sword enables her to finally lift and sheathe the sword. The King follows suit and pull his sword out and places it on the green flame. She can’t exactly tell why, but now it seems as if the swords are completed. Ripples on the steel, perhaps, but her sword appears to be different from the one she normally has, somehow. After examining the sword further, it appears to be Dark Sister. It’s beautiful, and it feels like it fits her completely, the blade of her ancestor, Visenya Targaryen. Now the blade unsheathes itself and glides towards a gigantic Weirwood tree, that she is unsure of how she didn’t see before. It sits under the tree and a flock of ravens fly around the sword, seemingly protecting it, and now the tree disappears.

_Strange dreams, this time not even sleeping, that foul horn awakened something…_

“That’s where Bran is, the great Weirwood, and it looks like he has Dark Sister with him, since Brynden Rivers is there as well. He told me this once.” The King says, pointing to where the tree was.

“You know the place?” She asks.

“Not well, I do know that it keeps them safe from the Others and eventually they will have to flee. Mance tasked a few of the Free Folk to keep them safe, they will return, I suspect that they will bring Dark Sister with them.” He replies.

The babe moves quite a bit at the sound of his father’s voice, they have that in common.

The last, golden flame and sword are dying down now, but they are not able to touch them completely. That Dragonbinder must have caused this madness. Curiously, the golden flames seem to gravitate towards her belly…

Now she opens her eyes...

Her eyes widen with shock as she sees the scenery around her and the King. The dragons are surrounding them, getting closer and closer to the two of them. They get right up on the two of them and start sniffing them, while their eyes seem to be changing from a darker shade of the same color to the original red, bronze, and gold, respectively. As they get closer, the dragons start to nuzzle and cuddle with them. It feels like she just walked out of the fire with the three of them as babes all over again. Viserion put his head against her belly, and the babe jumps like she never felt before. It makes her heart want to jump out of her chest. As she comes back to the present moment, the implications of the day hit her.

_Hopefully the people won’t revolt over the dragons acting up._

The King comes over now and kisses her, deeply and wildly. She returns the kisses, for what else is there to do with a man this handsome? All that she can see now is grey eyes invading her mind and heart, and never would she have it any other way. At a glance, she can also see the dragons staring at her out of the corner of her eyes, observing the two of them with curiosity. Finally her and her husband regain their composure, and step back momentarily.

The small council is standing just outside the dragon pit, looking on with curiosity. She eyes them for a short time, and they walk closer, but stop when Drogon turns his head towards the incoming group.

“Don’t worry, they have calmed.” She tells the council. They nod, but don’t come any closer.

_Can’t say I blame them._

She turns and stares at the King for a moment, and then Rhaegal and Drogon come forth, they are just big enough for the two of them to climb on their backs. They now do so.

“Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.” She says.

“A dragon is not a slave.” The King replies.

“Sovegon.” They say together and fly off on the dragons. The blue glowing glyphs on that Dragonbinder catch her attention.

The horn is on the captured Greyjoy ship and they fly towards it. They wanted at to enjoy themselves first, intending to fly towards the people and tell them that the threat is over, but she can tell that they are ill-equipped for extended flights at this point.

They head directly towards the Silence. _What a stupid name._ Viserion is behind them, following closely, as they make their way above the ship, with the Dragon binder on its deck.

“Time to abandon this ship,” she says to the ironborn on board. They just stare scowlingly, at the three dragons flying overhead.

_Never accused them of being smart._

“Get off of this wretched ship, lest you be burned.” The King says.

They now start to move slowly to exit the ship, but still no words come from their mouths. Then she remembers the crew is made up of mutes, that’s why the name of the ship. Sick man, Euron was, but he’s dead now. “Euron is dead, leave this place now and live.” She tells the crew of mutes.

They start abandoning ship. One of them stays behind. There always has to be that one that decides to go down with the ship. She’ll grant his wish, and she nods to the king.

“Dracarys.” They say together.

Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal burn the Silence, the Dragonbinder, and the fool that chose to stay with the ship and send them to the watery depths of Blackwater Bay.

The King winks at her and she is ready to abduct him and have her way with him, but first a rebuilding has to to begin, as well as an address to the citizens.

They fly back together to the dragon pit and prepare to meet with the council.

Flying is nostalgic…as well as somber…two of the things that are keeping her in a good place are her husband, and her child. She can still feel the lingering effects of Drogon’s anger and it is weighing heavy upon her mind. They land at the Dragon Pit, the council is still there, but coming no further than the

“I have been meaning to ask, my love, why did you finally decide to take the throne. I was planning on slapping you if you said you didn’t want it, but you haven’t, what changed?” She asks, it had been on her mind for a while.

“I met my mother…she told me that Jaehaerys was the name of a King…” He replies softly.

_That’s a fresh wound I just opened._

“There’s also something I had been meaning to tell you, I don’t know if I will tell the Starks…I saw Lord, Ned Stark before he died and he told me to burn down Kings Landing, after I told him what happened after his death. I was so angry with him for still supporting his friend Robert, but I understand him a bit better now. In some respects, we have been acting a little foolish, the both of us, and we need to make better choices. Otherwise, for what reason are we enjoying this life we have, if not to make better choices?” He says with great lament.

“You are the only King I’ll bend my knee too. You were always meant to be the King, so much I can tell. Besides, what did you think was going to happen when you made a Queen fall in love with you? You knocked on my cabin door, knowing what would happen, and you had no intention of gaining more power? Sounds like an idiotic thing to do if you ask me. You are right, my love, let’s make better choices.” She says to him.

That appeared to cheer him up some, but he is brooding so hard it looks like Rhaegal is brooding as well.

_Some things don’t change._

The people of Kings Landing are here now, looking at the two of them for guidance, and trembling with fear. The dragons are still laying there as her and the King stroke their heads and snouts.

“We apologize for the destruction that the dragons caused, we had a situation arrive out of our control. We have it back to normal. We hope you don’t give up on us, as we will rebuild the broken structures, and pay any damages that were incurred. The only thing we cannot do, is give the lives that were lost back to you, and for that, we will be forever sorry for.”

The King smiles to her. She can learn from her mistakes as well.

“We’ve had worse, Your Grace.” A man in the crowd says. The crowd starts laughing.

_That’s a horrible thought, but still true._

“We know that that Greyjoy fiend with the horn was the one that made the dragons go wild, and we are glad you put a stop to him. We still support you, Your Graces, you are much better than any that we had before, hells we couldn’t even speak to the last King and Queen we had.” Another person says from the crowd.

“Thank you, that means so much to us, now we have a city to rebuild. We will be there with you and for you.” She says to the citizens.

As the crowd burst into cheers of ‘Mother of Dragons’ and ‘Wolf Dragonknight’, one word appears to come to mind, a word that she never said before, A word that eluded her thoughts for most of her life, brought her to the edge of her sanity, that she never really knew the meaning of before this point.

Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that came out well. Thanks for reading.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran uses his powers.

Bran Stark

In the cave of the Three Eyed Raven, quiet, cold, and bleak, he is holding on to the last glimpses of his humanity. He knows that the last vestiges of being a human have long left Brynden Rivers, but he will not let that happen to him, not again…Bloodraven has no need to eat or drink, mix that with the ability to greensee, and the coldness of the cave, as well as very little contact with others and he can see how difficult it would be to remain whole.

He has been here for a while, and not sure how long. Time seems to be fleeting, not to mention the fact that he cannot see outside, so it is always dark. Not much different than a prisoner, which is how it feels sometimes to not have the use of his legs. He remembers how it feels to be a young boy, full of adventure, a boy that liked to climb the walls. A boy that protects his family, and doesn’t just stare emotionlessly, and idly. He’s helped by the fact that his family is still mostly alive.

I am a Stark of Winterfell…my mind whispers…a Tully of Riverrun as well...That is what me and Brynden Rivers have in common, we have Riverlands blood. Perhaps that’s why he picked me...

“Young Brandon Stark…I always knew you would succeed me…because I saw you…before you were pushed from the tower…but after you fell…I knew that you still needed to climb…this is just a different method of climbing…you will also see your successor…one day...” The Three Eyed Raven says mysteriously.

The thoughts disturb his inner peace, not for the first time, however. He is better prepared to have his mind ripped apart by someone always staring into his thoughts, seemingly. His thoughts turn to his companions.

Meera is out hunting with the Wildlings that have been protecting them. Having food to eat that is not that bitter paste from The Children is helping him as well. No longer is he Bran the Broken, whatever that meant anyway.

Hodor and Summer are sitting together, with Summer laying in Hodor’s lap keeping him warm. Hodor has a large wooden shield, packed with shards of dragonglass, so that he will be better equipped to defend against the dead, when they come. The shield he has was made by the Children, fashioned like a door.

Jojen is sleeping, he was injured on the way here, but the Wildlings saved him from the wights outside the cave. The Children have been using leaves and strange concoctions to help him heal.

Now since the Three Eyed Raven looks to be sleeping, or not focused on him, he decides to observe and glance at the things that interest him once again. He touches the roots, now his third eye opens and he takes flight, unable to tell at times whether the glimpses are to the past, present or future, learning how to differentiate between the times is his goal now.

There is a strange raven that he sees all the time now, and he’s unsure if it is real or not, which is disconcerting. It flies around, speaking to him, and follows him wherever he goes.

“Pack! Pack. Pack!” The Raven says.

Now he’s in Winterfell.

Rickon is there with Osha and their mother. “Little Lord, she is still your mother, you don’t need to be so rude to her.” Osha says.

Mother and Rickon just stare at each other, their blue eyes meeting, staring into each other and he can see mother’s eyes watering. Rickon’s eyes soften, but he keeps staring and gets no closer to her. His younger brother glances over to where Osha and Shaggydog are, but he folds his arms in defiance, after adjusting his helmet.

“I don’t like liars.” Rickon says stubbornly. “But, you can be my mother.” Mother smiles at that. She tries to hug him but he turns away from her and the smile is gone. “If you learn how to stop lying.” Rickon finishes.

She nods to Rickon, little does she know this is one of the most stubborn boys to ever exist.

It brings a smile to his face.

The vision fades again and he keeps flying to another place.

Now he’s at Riverrun.

Arya slaps Sansa, with the sound of the smack echoing off of the stone walls.

Just like old times.

“I had to tell you before the Queen did!” Sansa yells at her sister, rubbing her reddened cheek.

“Here I was feeling sorry for you, until this, what is wrong with you? All this was jealousy? You wanted her gone so you could have Jon?” Arya asks.

“Jon is the only man that willingly shares power. No other man would do that, not at least, any that are worth anything.” Sansa says.

Arya slaps her again.

“You cannot determine anyone’s worth, you are here because of your mistakes and you still haven’t learned from them! You’re an idiot. You did what Cersei would have done, not to mention Littlefinger. You deserve what happens to you, but they still said that you have to consent in order for the marriage to take place. You are very fortunate we have a good King and Queen.” Arya informs Sansa, pointing at her accusingly.

Sansa just stares at her, holding her red cheek.

“You don’t do anything, except plot and plan. You can’t fight, and now no one wants to listen to you. What are you, a female Tyrion?” Arya accuses.

“Olyvar is a good man, I just always wanted a Prince or a King…maybe I am just another Cersei after all.” Sansa says.

“Not quite, I’ve only slapped you, if you were Cersei i’d have to put a blade in your pretty little neck. Let’s avoid that shall we?” Arya says.

Sansa nods.

Suddenly, the vision fades…

“King. King? King!” The Raven now says.

His eyes now go blank, with the visions starting to form into scenes he slowly recognizes.

Kings Landing.

Aegon Blackfyre and Jon Connington are kneeling before Daenerys and Jaehaerys Targaryen.

“I humbly accept the Lordship to Harrenhal, where Jon Connington will be my advisor, Your Graces.” Aegon says looking directly at Daenerys.

“Humbly, you say? Neither of you are humble. That was forced upon you, but eventually humility comes for us all, almost as assuredly as death.” The King says.

Aegon and Connington look at each other. They nod to the King one after the other.

“Very wise your grace, you have much of your father in you. Long will you reign, with the temperament of a true King.” Connington says. He looks to be captivated by the King.

“Hopefully not too much of Rhaegar, there Lord Connington, you seem to be fawning over my husband as much as I do. The Dragon does not share, and that is where the similarities end, my Lord. You could have had a place in our court, had you not abandoned Viserys and I. We were Rhaegar’s siblings, were you so blinded by your silver prince that you couldn’t what was right before your face?” Daenerys says to Griff.

Connington looks down at the ground.

“Why do this for us, Your Graces?” Connington asks.

“You have served the boy faithfully, albeit for the wrong reasons, but you will advise him. I suspect that my father would make you his Hand, but I am not my father. You trusted in a false prince from a cheesemonger and a spider, but you acted with honor in battle, where others would not. I respect that.” The King says.

Connington’s eyes widen with shock. He didn’t know that the thing that haunted him would keep him alive.

The vision begins to fade and the scenery changes again.

The King is now in Valyrian Steel armor, with dragon and direwolf sigils, looking out at the Blackwater with Euron’s corpse at sea. Balon, Victarion, and Aeron Greyjoy are standing near the King, with Yara looking at them, in the distance.

“You killed him.” Victarion says with a blank face.

“I was taking the trash out in Kings Landing, a task left for servants and fools, but this one was left for me.” The King shrugs.

Victarion holds out his hand for the King to shake. He does so, apprehensively. Apparently Victarion held no love for his brother.

“That armor…“ Aeron says.

“I paid the Iron price for it, even though I don’t believe in any such thing.” The King says with a grin.

“I underestimated you.” Balon says.

“Keep doing so, perhaps we’ll find out what kind of Queen Yara would be. Your fleet is Iron, but iron burns faster than Valyrian Steel.” The King says looking directly into Balon’s eyes.

Rhaegal flies over and burns Euron’s body, before sending the charred flesh down into the sea. The other Greyjoys seem conflicted by this, but they don’t say anything out of fear. Yara is smiling, however. 

The vision fades again, it’s spinning this time like he is being pulled against his will…

The Raven is staring in the distance, “Mad. Mad. Mad!” The Raven says.

The vision fades and takes him elsewhere, spinning and flying simultaneously.

Dragonstone.

A beautiful, silver-haired woman, looking out over the edge of the cliffs. With great sadness, she places her hands on to her belly. “Daenerys, I hope you make it before this world turns mad. The man has lost his senses, but I must do my duty. I hope I don’t ever become as mad as him…” The woman says with a few tears. Upon looking at the claw-like scratches and the bites on her body, this must be Queen Rhaella.

He can’t help but to feel sorry for the woman. Clearly, he is a little more human than he once was. Never did he care for other people so. His plan is working. It is now that he realizes the raven that follows him must be Jojen, guiding him and helping him to keep his humanity. It always helps to have a friend.

The time seems to flash, and he’s still at Dragonstone. Aerys is arguing with Rhaegar before the Godswood.

“The only match we could find was a Dornish whore! You were too into your loathsome books to find a proper match. I know you have been looking at a Northern whore as well. My spies tell me as much. I didn’t intend to raise you that stupid!” Aerys says.

“The Dornish can be great allies, father. The North has the blood of the First Men. These are things we may need in the Great War, when it comes again. We were not prepared when the time came, and now there are no more dragons. Somehow, I know that there will be three dragons when that time comes. I don’t know if that’s my children or three actual dragons, but the song of ice and fire must be sung. You don’t see because you are blinded by your fears, and paranoia.” Rhaegar says with a cloudy mood.

Aerys backhands him, sending Rhaegar to his knees.

“You will fall to your knees then, like all these worthless lords. The only reason you live after speaking to me like that is because you are my son and heir! Learn your place, boy. Fear keeps these kingdoms in line, not prophecies.” Aerys says in a commanding tone.

Rhaegar leaves.

The face of Brynden Rivers appears on the Weirwood tree. “Burn them all…” The tree says.

Aerys looks up at the tree and his expression changes completely. He heads into the castle, presumably to go and terrorize his wife. He realizes that in this past, he has no power other than sight…Bran was pulled into this vision, as if it was something that he needed to see. He looks around with his third eye, and is surprised to see The Three Eyed Raven hovering around the Mad King, like a shadow, or an apparition.

He sees Blood Raven with an apprehensive look on his face. The only emotion he has ever seen on him.

This expression is the same as when Willis saw him in the vision and was surprised by seeing Bran appear from nowhere, misusing his power. That was what made him Hodor, stunted in his speech. Brynden Rivers is now before him again, appearing from nowhere and places his hand on Bran’s head.

They appear back in the present, beneath the Great Weirwood.

“It’s you…you…whatever you are…you drove him mad, and you caused all of this!” He yells at the Three Eyed Raven.

The old man, suspended in trees, just stares at him with a blank look.

Was this how my family saw me?

“You told me the ink was already dry on the past! You’re a damned old fool!” He yells at the old man.

“How do you think I know this, Brandon? I needed to train you, for many reasons, but mostly, not to become like me…it’s incredibly difficult to hold on to your humanity, as you well know…I wanted to get revenge on my Targaryen family…and it worked too well…” The Three Eyed Raven says slowly.

Was I like him? I caused Hodor’s affliction…I stood by and watched the others fight for me. And I got nothing but more power out of it. Was it me manipulating events in my favor?

“We don’t have much time left together…you got a chance to correct your mistakes…never forget that…” The Three Eyed Raven tells him.

Now he can see his breath…the temperature has dropped signifigantly…the raven that was following him is visibly fading away now, and he can see lots of ice and snow.

“Dead.” The raven says before it disappears completely. A chain of ice is attached to him, and he can’t remove it. The chain is retracting and pulling him against his will, towards a castle, that looks made of ice. He’s shivering both from the cold and from fear. This is a different vision than the one’s he has had before…

He is being dragged along the floor, the coldness seeping into his flesh and bones, feeling the cold air filling his lungs, making his hands feel slightly numb and yet still painful.

An odd language that sounds like shattered glass is reverberating through the castle, and he can see what looks like a play of dark origins.

A throne is sat upon by a sleeping ice creature, this is the Great Other. After a time of pure silence. The Great Other’s eyes open and a crown starts to form on his head, this is different than the Night King that he knew, perhaps the Others learn from their mistakes as well. He knows that this is not where he needs to be, but the chain is holding him here. None of the Others notice him, but finally the Great Other’s gaze turns to him, and the White Walkers look towards him. They start to walk towards Bran, and start unsheathing their various ice weapons, and he can see axes, spears, and swords. One of them pulls out a small blade and goes to cut him with it, but a burning flame knocks the Other back. It was an oil lantern, thrown to catch them off guard, and it works.

It’s Coldhands. His hood covering his face, he takes a chain with another flaming ball of pitch and oil. Swinging it decisively, he cuts the chain from him and the vision then disappears.

His heart aches for his Uncle Benjen, and what he has become…

He returns to the Great Weirwood.

“You cannot stay too long in your visions, he will grab you every time. I told you that if you stay beneath the see too long, that it will drown you. It will be worse if that sea you are beneath, then freezes.” Brynden Rivers says.

After all this, there are still things I don’t know…

“He didn’t touch me this time.” He tells Bloodraven.

“It does not matter, the Night King comes for us…you must leave…before he…”

Suddenly, there is a blue hand reaching out of Brynden Rivers chest, and Summer starts growling.

The Three eyed raven starts hacking and wheezing, but no blood has come out of his chest where the hand came out. The Night King is there, standing behind the Three Eyed Raven, with a still beating heart in his hands. Blue Eyes are now staring at him, threatening to freeze his soul.

Ravens swirl around all of them and break his concentration. Turns out that this was just a vision, the Three Eyed Raven is alive and well, and Jojen is shaking him waking him up. As he looks closer, Bloodraven has a mark on his chest, a blue hand mark, the same as when

“We have to go Bran, we don’t have much time.” Jojen says.

Meera is tying him to a sled, and the wildlings have their weapons out. Hodor is testing the weight of the sled against his back. Summer is staying close.

When they get out of the cave, Uncle Benjen is there, riding on his elk. His black hands point off into the distance where a swarm of dead is approaching. “Go, not much time.” Uncle Benjen says with his broken, undead voice.

They leave the well ahead of the dead, with the knowledge that he is once again the Three Eyed Raven.

After a long learning period, learning and seeing, watching, observing, and even influencing others, he has only learned one certainty. He knows one crucial fact, one that makes him smile.

Bran is no longer broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, you guys are great! Also, thanks for reading.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beric goes on a mission.

Beric Dondarrion

Riding for the Wall with the Brotherhood, he is double checking his fur coat for supplies. With a Dragonglass dagger in each of his pockets, they won’t get him so easily. He looks around at Edric Dayne and Thoros, at his sides, and Melisandre and Anguy are behind him. Ser Jorah is holding up the rear of the party, and he hasn’t stopped scowling since he tagged along with them. He really looks like a bear in this moment.

Now is not the time for Beric to have doubts in his mind, he is their leader after all, and since the Great Other is R’hllor’s greatest enemy, they must help rescue the Three Eyed Raven. Brandon Stark, the crippled boy that has been beyond the Wall for some time.

He thinks back on when he got his orders from the King, before traveling North. This young boy is the one responsible for what is happening, he gave them all another life, and the King wants him safely returned to Winterfell. Beric himself has knowledge of the lands behind the Wall, as well as the necessary bravery to go and rescue the boy and his companions.

Back in Kings Landing...

“Ser Beric, there is something I need from you, a mission, if you will.” The King says, tapping his hand on the arms of the Iron Throne.

_Feels like I’m being tasked to hunt the Mountain all over again. Not Ned Stark this time, but a wolf all the same, hopefully this one will turn out differently than that mission._

“Anything, Your Grace.” He replies, Thoros is looking at him apprehensively.

_Did I have more faith in this King than in The Lord of Light? No, not quite, but this is one King I’d be happy to serve._

“Bran is making his way to the Wall, Eastwatch beyond the Sea. You know the place, I presume.” He nods to the King. “Go forth and bring Bran back to Winterfell. The Wall is well manned, but don’t underestimate the Night King. I suspect the war with the dead will be different, Bran has indicated as much. I want to go with you, but I have orders to stay here. If I were to go, the Queen would have my head, probably yours too.” The King says without emotion.

“Aye, Your Grace, it shall be done as you ask.” He replies.

“I need some more ale if we’re going North.” Thoros says.

Gendry Baratheon comes into the throne room and speaks to the King. The King now has an odd look on his face. The King contemplates for bit, and then speaks to them. “The armor you need is ready for you, it is not as strong as Valyrian Steel but it is still better than regular steel. It’s a little darker in color because of the dragonglass in it, and we call it Dragonsteel, may it serve you well.” The Targaryen King says to them.

“Aye, Your Grace, we will face darkness, and death itself on this journey. Who better than us, the Lord of Light’s chosen?” He says to the King.

The King nods in return. He always knew there was something about this boy, now King, but he thought it was just the honor of Ned Stark. This was so much more than he ever imagined. One of the only other people chosen to be brought back by the Lord of Light. Feels like honor has returned to this once horrid city.

“They could use some Valyrian Steel your grace, it is our greatest weapon, after all.” Jorah Mormont says.

The King gets a dangerous looking gleam in his eyes. “You are precisely correct Ser Jorah, isn’t that Longclaw you have on your belt? Looks like you get the chance to be your father’s son and finally earn that sword.”

Ser Jorah looks around with confusion, almost as if he wants to speak to the Queen, but realization hits his face as he notices that would be futile. The King and Queen very seldom contradict each other’s orders once given. He looks down at his feet, then back at the King, then prepares to leave.

“Let’s go Thoros, we ride for the Wall. Watch out for those dead bears...” he says.

Thoros just looks at him dumbfounded.

Back to the present...

They have arrived at Eastwatch, now with several men manning the keep, and some new defenses.

_We should be okay, as long as the Night King doesn’t get another dragon. The dragons are far from here now, and they are not likely to come. Not after what they saw before._

Dolorous Edd is here with men that he doesn’t recognize.

“It’s strange, seeing you without the Lord Commander cloak on, Edd.” He says in front of the Night’s Watch brothers.

They look around and at each other before laughing. “The Watch would have to be at a sorry state to let you lead us, no offense, Edd.” One of the men says.

“None taken, but Jon Snow is King now after all, so you sorry lot may be worth something someday.” Edd replies.

The men cheer and hold up their mugs of ale. Thoros joins them, unsurprisingly.

One of the men walks up to Lady Melisandre, with a look of lust in his eyes. “I haven’t seen a woman in many moons, especially one as beaut-“ before he can finish, she sets his cloak on fire and he falls down to the ground. He rolls around for a bit, with the men laughing at him.

“Finally bit off more than you can chew, eh Rast?” Edd says.

Rast jumps back up, running towards the Lady again with clearly bad intentions. Him and Thoros light their swords up and point them at this Rast fellow. He backs down, seems there are not too many men willing to fight a flaming sword.

“Of course we have the fire gang here. Just don’t go melting the Wall, will ye? With my luck it’s probably frozen piss and I’ll be the one to get it all over me.” Edd says.

“The only one you need to worry about burning things is the King, and his dragon. We had better to rescue his little brother.” Thoros says.

“Aye, it has been weird here since Jon left, the Wall almost has honor now since a man on the wall became King. Now we only have a few assholes, we used to have more dumb fucks than Mole’s Town.” Edd says.

“Aye, lets go lads, we have a day ahead of us.” He tells the Brothers in Black.

They prepare themselves to go beyond the wall, but he sends Anguy and Melisandre to scout at the top of the Wall. The height of the Wall is their greatest vantage point. Edric fastens Beric’s armor and prepares to fasten his own. “Edric, you are staying. Going beyond the wall is not for you, lad. You will be the one to let us in if we need to come back in a hurry, I won’t face...your...sister(?)...if you die.” He tells his squire.

“She is my aunt. You don’t remember her do you?” Edric questions.

“I...sadly, do not. I wouldn’t know who she was if she stood before me, I think I might remember the color of her hair...” he laments.

“Well I can’t say that I blame you, you are doing well to still remember your own name after losing so much. You are a good man, Beric. Come back in one piece.” Edric says as he ruffles the boy’s light blond hair.

“My boy, I’m already in pieces, what’s one more?” He laughs.

Edric just stares at him with a blank look, before giving him a hesitant smile. “Come back, Ser Beric, I want you to knight me when the time comes, plus the King seems to value you, especially if he sent you to get his brother.”

He ruffles the boys hair one more time.

Now it’s time to go out beyond the Wall.

Dolorous Edd is still complaining, “Going beyond the Wall, with a walking dead man, to find other walking dead men, this is just what I planned for my life. Not much can go worse than this, unless someone tried to make me Lord Commander.”

Suddenly a scream makes everyone look up, it’s a burning body. “Ah, It burns, it burns!” The man screams falling and burning as if he was thrown from the Wall. The body is ashes by the time it hits the ground.

They just keep moving, no one would have to ask to know that it was Rast, the idiot.

“Ok, I get it, it could be worse, I could have tried to kiss the Red Woman. Should have known the only woman to show up voluntarily to the Wall will burn you when you touch her.” Edd says.

They all shake their head and smile at Edd’s antics.

They travel beyond the wall, marking the trees they pass. Walking together, they watch each other’s backs, with plenty of provisions, searching for the small group. Several hours pass, and the Wall gets more and more distant behind them.

No animals were spotted, no movement other than the wind blowing the trees. Even more difficult to tell is when they are getting close, he doesn’t feel the cold as the others do, maybe it’s the fire from the Lord of Light keeping him warm.

An arrow on the the tree next to him lands solidly on the bark in the middle of the tree. It’s from Anguy, with a note attached, and now it sets him on edge. He unfurls and reads the note.

_Northwest three hundred paces, small group spotted, one on a cart being carried along. Something moving in pursuit, seven hundred paces back. I’ll follow behind and cover you with Arrows. Lord of Light be with us._

It’s time.

“Three hundred paces ahead.” he says to the men.

“Aye.” They return.

Ser Jorah stops and looks around now, and he readies his sword for battle. Be ready for anything, the true measure of a knight. Ser Jorah's dark, dragon sigil clad armor against the pale white snow makes him easier to spot, a good thing if he gets lost. He and Thoros have their flaming swords to light the way.

The sound of unsheathing swords rings in his ears. As they proceed ahead towards the small group, it seems as though the air is getting a little thinner. Now the sound of crunching snow gets closer and closer to them, and they are ready for a fight.

A large man with a cart behind him is running towards them, flanked by two Wildlings and two young kids, a boy and a girl. “Hodor, Hodor!” the large man says, running as fast as he can. A direwolf is running alongside the cart, protecting the boy.

_Lord of Light, guide us in the darkness._

He nods to Thoros, and they both light their swords. “They are fast, Ser Beric, be prepared, they will be upon us soon.” Bran says to them.

“Get in formation lads, death is trying to meet us. I don’t know about you, but I’m much too young to meet him again.” He says to the men.

_Even though I’ve met him six times already._

The trees have gotten more scarce, so it is harder to find cover, but there are still a few are here and there. The cold beyond the Wall has effectively killed the plant life out here. A terrible place for a living thing to be.

“Hodor, keep going to the Wall, please.” Bran says.

The large man keeps trekking towards the wall, carrying the Young Stark along with him. The girl amongst them goes along with Bran, and she has a Valyrian Steel sword on her back. She looks at the other young boy with strange, green eyes for a time with some sadness, and then keeps going. “Come on Jojen.” The girl says. He looks confused, as if he’s not supposed to be there and then follows his sister’s command. The young boy keeps looking at his hand as if it’s on fire as they go along to the Wall.

The two Wildlings want to stay and fight, they look excited to see some action. Each of them get closer to each other and form a line.

Thoros is turning up his flask now.

“Bravery, courage, stupidity, whatever you want to call it, that is what we have to show today. The fire from the Lord of Light will guide us and protect us. We need to buy the boy time to make it to the Wall.” He announces, looking out at the men.

Both fires on his and Thoros’ swords go dim and barely burning…

Edd opens his mouth first. “Burn me if I die, I don’t want to have to take orders from a dead man. They would still make me dig the latrine pits. I’d still be a better man than Craster was though.”

The wildlings scoff, “swords sing better songs than you, southerner.”

Thoros turns up his flask again drinking deeply, then gives him a crooked smile and and a nod.

A screaming dead man comes lunging for them. They kill the wight easily.

This time a faster creature, a dead Shadowcat comes running at near-breakneck speed. It slashes one of the Wildlings on his back before he can react. The Wildling smiles and shouts as he jumps and pushes his spear through the Shadowcat’s skull. The creature falls down into mere bones and fur. Now the Wildling is laughing while wiping the blood on his back, _I suppose it is true that pain is one of the things that lets you know you are still alive._

_Does that mean that he’s more alive than anyone? He’s a walking mystery, is he a dead man, or just a flame, that can be put out when it’s outlived its usefulness?_

Now a large wave of dead men come forward, screaming and howling, teeth chattering and bone crunching.

“Hold them off!” He announces to the men present. They slowly get back to form, with the approaching swarm ready for their blood…

Now his blood is pumping. Slicing down wights, getting slashed in return. Watching them swarm one one of the Wildlings with bites and scratches, they battle has truly begun. His armor is holding up against the dead men. Him and Thoros both wearing Dragonsteel chain mail. It stops the wights from breaking through, and it almost starts to feel too easy...

Now a blue light comes shining forth. The other men start shivering and shaking more vigorously than before. A snow filled mist comes over the area, with the visibility taking a nose dive immediately. A White Walker walks towards them, in the middle of the wights trying to swarm them. Now two more join this White Walker. Behind them is a larger army of dead men, coming up quickly to attack them.

There are about ten fighting men in total, but they cannot see much farther than beyond their own fingers.

“Run!” Ser Jorah says. They retreat while he swings his bear-pommeled sword at the dead men and they screech and deteriorate into plain bones.

He looks back and sees a White Walker getting his weapon ready, an ice spear, approaching Ser Jorah. As the ice-clad Other takes his spear and prepares to duel with the Bear Knight, an arrow sails past him and his companions and towards the blue eyed, non-expressive creature.

The White Walker catches the arrow. Ser Jorah takes this opportunity to run, and now is following behind the group of fighters, the slowest of which is the Wildling that was swarmed by the dead earlier.

A spear comes flying towards them, hitting the straggling Wildling in the leg, with the blood spilling all over the bright white snow.

They have got to make it, the sun is starting to set...

More arrows fly towards the White Walker, and one of the three arrows that Anguy shot finds its mark, in the Others’ chest. Once the arrow hits, the ice creature shatters and lets out a horrible scream, that prevents him from being able to hear correctly for the time being. At this point he has a slight shiver that makes him jump a bit.

That’s odd...

He can only hear his own heartbeat, and a screech is stuck in his mind. The other two White Walkers decide to retreat, as they fall back to the Wall.

Probably because they can see the Wall now, but something feels off about this exchange with the dead. Were the White Walkers this smart all along, if so, why did they not attack when they swarmed Winterfell?

Finally upon reaching the rising gate, the straggling wildling lays on the ground. “I became a damned Crow if only for a day. I trusted Mance, and he trusts your dragon rider King. If my children see the next summer then I’ll know you southerners, kept your word and maybe I won’t come back for you.” The Wildling says.

The other Wildling grabs his hand. He whispers some words to his fallen comrade and then shoves a Dragonglass dagger into his heart. Now they usher Beric over.

“Burn the body, fire knight, your Lord can at least do that can?” The Wildling asks.

He runs his hand over his blade, spilling a bit of blood on the sword. The sword does not light, much to his chagrin. He looks at Thoros and Thoros just shrugs at him. Thoros runs his hand over his blade, and still it doesn’t light.

_What is going on? Have I been forsaken? No...this is something else. Why did I feel cold all of a sudden?_

He tried to drag the body of the dead Wildling inside the Wall but the Night’s Watchmen stopped him.

Once they are safely inside the gate, the boy that he saved now looks at him with a concerned look, seated next to Melisandre as she is looking on concerned, with small wrinkles starting to appear on her face.

“I’m sorry that you came for me, Ser Beric. And thank you. I still underestimated the Night King after all that I learned. He is using my powers against me at the Great Weirwood. You three followers of R’hllor, since he got to the Heart Tree, his power is starting to awake and when he wakes up completely, your fires are going to go out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre remembers how to be mortal. Thoros learns fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I’m still here.

Melisandre of Asshai

She can’t seem to help but wonder why she came to the Wall with Beric and Thoros. Following the flames no doubt, but now they are starting to go out.

What can she do then? Wasn’t it her faith that brought her here? She still believes, since clearly she would have been dead by now if not for her Lord. Right now he seems powerless against the Great Other, the true enemy. Perhaps the blue eyed monster just has the upper hand for the time being.

Faith brought me here, and now is not the time to lose it.

She looks around at the Night’s Watchmen, the lone Wildling, and the other few travelers present just staring at her start to turn in to her true form. Bran seemed to know already, as well as the strange green eyed boy. Everyone else seemed astonished at her form.

There are now eyes everywhere. Staring at her, watching her. Eyes that see through her. Eyes that look beyond her. Eyes that follow her every move to see if she would fall apart somehow.

Probably the only reason that she hasn’t.

She also wants to laugh because the fact is, she is likely not even the oldest person here. There is a Child of The Forest here, looking directly at her as well.

Normally, she likes the attention, but it’s awkward seeing all these people just staring at her.

Stannis’ fires were burning low, so she told him. Now hers are as well. Beric and Thoros look shaken at the recent events. “My Lady, it looks like our time is running out, but our fires have not burned out just yet, looks like this boy is the key to defeating the Night King.” Beric says.

Also this strange, even by her standards, green eyed boy is looking towards her, or through her, she doesn’t know anymore. He smiles at her before he speaks.

“I saw…you…fade away into dust. You saw it too didn’t you? You didn’t trust what you saw in the flames, did you, Red Woman?” The boy asks.

Who is this boy? Another boy that can see better than her? What have I really been doing all my life?

She saw the light on her ruby necklace go dim, and subsequently she got weak, and had to be helped up everywhere she went. A raven flew to her and plucked the light out of her ruby necklace, costing her the connection to R’hllor. Then all she could see was green and dust. The question is, however, how do these people here know more than she does?

“Jojen, stop scaring the lady, nobody likes it when you give your creepy predictions.” The young girl says to her brother.

Now she looks down at her feet, that was the people that she talked to thought of her isn’t it? To know what others don’t was her identity, and now she is depending on these people to help keep her alive. Now she is weak, dying, and powerless to stop her fate.

“Lady Melisandre, don’t fret, you are not dead yet. The Night King has to get beyond the Wall to truly put out your fires. He has the Great Weirwood and that gives him the power of all the Heart Trees beyond the Wall. Just stay close to the fires, and keep a torch with you, and you will be okay for now. I need to resist him, and he is trying to come for me. I’m the only one who can stop him from taking over.” Bran says.

“How do you know this?” She asks the crippled boy.

“I am the raven you have seen in the flames, with three eyes I see almost everything. The fires of your lord are being put out by the cold right now. That was the Old Gods punishment for burning the Godswood, when you convinced your former King to burn them. You have to fight back.” Bran replies.

“What do you mean? You know what I must do?” She asks with some hesitation.

Bran just looks at her with concern. “Great victories require great sacrifice...”

She just looks back at the boy with strangely infinite wisdom, it’s starting to sink in.

“I saw you, walking out beyond the wall, with no shiver at all from the cold. You were determined and your fire burned bright, but then the cold made your fires dim. Someone or something was reaching for your heart, and your fire returned and burned them all, leaving nothing but smoke.” Jojen tells her.

Beric is breathing heavily, and painfully, his fire is clearly going out. Thoros is still drinking ale, and his blood is likely flammable at this point.

Bran ushers her over to him, and when she does so, he grabs her hand. He looks her straight in the eyes and it gives her hope. “You are a complicated person, but there are some good things about you. Perhaps you thought that all these years of learning would have taught you so much, but you learn the simple lessons after they hurt you, sometimes. Leaf has something to show you. One must go and discover what it means to be human, giving up something so that others may live. You understand that don’t you?”

She turns away from the boy and goes to look into the flames. Looking at them, trying to determine any kind of sign or signal from the Lord of Light, yields her nothing. Yet she can feel her face crumpling and body failing. Finally, after some time of looking into the flames, drowning out all the other thoughts around her, the flames show her a vision, of Beric, alive and well, fighting in a Northern Castle, against the dead men. She can see others that she recognizes, the Hound, Arya Stark, the King, Nights Watch brothers, Jamie Lannister, and Gendry Baratheon, as well as others that were fighting the dead. She can tell that she was not present in the vision. Perhaps her fragility had taken its toll on her.

Despite this she doesn’t lose faith. A breaking down body is not something that anyone can fix, but what matters is what you do about it. Will you cower and hide, or will you do your utmost to work around your apparent affliction? Lord of Light, if I could ask for one thing, when I get close to my goal, light an unlit torch for me, and I’ll know that it was not all for naught.

The Child of the Forest comes up to her now, and doesn’t speak for a time. Then the Child of the Forest extends her hand. “Come.” Leaf says.

They go to the top of the Wall together. There is probably more knowledge here and now than there is in the entire Citadel. Making her way to the battlements of the Wall, she looks at the defenses and weapons of the Night’s Watch, it looks like enough to make a stand.

Pots and pots of green liquid is here, in Dragonglass containers. Fire and Dragonglass, the dead’s worst nightmare.

Will this fire work to put out the cold of the dead?

“This is called wildfire, made from alchemy, some call it magic, but you and I both know that magic is only science that simple minded ones can’t easily understand.” Leaf says.

Leaf puts her finger in one of the pots of wildfire and then walks up to her. “This is going to hurt.” The Child of the Forest says. Leaf now touches the green liquid to her skin and it burns, but it’s also soothing, her body now returns to form for a time, the ruby on her necklace starts glowing brightly, then dims, but still burns her. Bran must have told Leaf how to help her on her way. It’s an odd thing for a boy to know so much.

She smiles, “I know pain worse than this.”

Leaf walks over to her and writes strange inscriptions on the wildfire pots, then they condense and turn into small spheres. Weapons to use against the dead.

“You will not be able to kill the Night King with these. But you can kill many dead men. You can make a difference for the rest of us that want to live.”

She stares at the name R’hllor on her necklace’s crest, a name that she has known for many years, that lights her in the darkness, guided her through the hells of slavery in Asshai, now she is ready for whatever the day will bring.

She goes back down to the bottom, restored and raring to go.

“Edd, will you get the Lady a horse, please?” Bran says.

Edd looks astonished, “Where is the Red Woman going to go?”

“To the Great Weirwood to, take out as many of the dead as I can. I will try to sever his link to the Great Tree.” She replies.

The others look up upon hearing this, but Jojen smiles, “I will be the one to guide you.”

The girl protests, “No Jojen! You can’t! I don’t want to lose you.”

He walks over to her and places his hand on his sister’s face. “It’s okay Meera, I have to do this, I saw this, I know that today is the day I-“ Meera knocks Jojen out.

“I will protect you, brother.” Meera says as she kneels down and cradles Jojen.

The others are still silent, they want to protest, but they don’t know what to say to her, no one should be insane enough to go out there alone.

Looks like that’s why I’m here.

Now Bran’s eyes go white and it appears he’s off somewhere else now. A flock of ravens start flying and cawing around, outside the Wall. She doesn’t understand this boys powers, but she did read a story about this power long ago, a person with all the knowledge of the world. After some time of being elsewhere, the boy returns to himself and looks at her with a puzzled look.

“Do you remember what you first said when you got free from being a slave, my Lady?” Bran says serious, but with an undertone of softness.

“I would burn the rest of my life away, just for an ounce of freedom.” She replies to the Stark boy, with wide eyes, she didn’t know the boy could see back that far. Looks like the stories she read were true.

“Don’t forget who you were, just to become who you are meant to be, and who you are. I had to learn that as well. I’ll tell you a secret, my Lady, I did all this. I sent back the King, and helped the Queen and the other Westerosi, so that I do not become like the previous Three Eyed Raven. I saw myself becoming him, and I let a lot of things happen that I shouldn’t have, because I had forgotten who Brandon Stark was. Instead of apologizing, I chose to finally do something.” Bran says while looking into her eyes.

“Will you tell Shireen, Gendry, and Ser Davos that I’m sorry? Can you do that for me, if you see them again?” She asks Bran.

He nods at her.

Time to do what she came here to do, and she looks over to Beric and Thoros in the corner, staying close to the fire. They look tired and weary.Now she gets the resolve to go now and make her last sacrifice to her Lord.

The Gate opens, and she has a horse brought to her by the Night’s Watch. She takes with her an unlit torch and heads out towards the Great Weirwood. If she has the Lords favor then he will light that torch, that is nothing for him.

Time for one last sacrifice, and she has to wonder if the Lord of Light would even think shedeserves the bit of fire that she has.

She now rides for a time beyond the wall, following behind a flock of ravens. The skies are surprisingly clear and she spots no tracks, nor dead men on her journey so far.

No scouts, no animals, just nearly dead trees, but other than that, no signs of life.

A few flakes of snow start to fall, signifying that she is getting close to where she needs to be. It gets a bit more difficult to see, as the winds pick up speed. A snowstorm comes forth after she rides towards the Great Weirwood, but she expected to not be able to see when the time came. A few more paces ahead and her ruby necklace starts glowing a bit.

It dissipates the snowstorm. A raging snowstorm picks back up after this, and it seems that there are forces present, clashing at one another. The ruby glows, and dissipates the storm again, and another forms.

Now her unlit torch lights, as she pulls up to a cave, and she can faintly see the trace of red through the snowstorm. She can hear the caws of ravens above, and then the black birds fly around her swirling and swooping in her presence. Then they fly away, the snowstorm appears to be coming from the cave. She enters the cave cautiously, with her ruby starting to light brighter.

Suddenly a pair of blue eyes illuminates the dark, and they get closer and closer to her, and her ruby gets even brighter, and now a White Walker is here staring her in the face. A slaver, which she as familiar with, just with a different sort of power over his slaves, she reasons. She bares her breast to the White Walker so that it can end her life quickly, and she closes her eyes.

All that she hears is a screech, and what sounds like ice shattering, as she opens her eyes, Leaf had followed her here, to the Great Weirwood, and used a dragonglass dagger to destroy the Other. The ice shroud surrounding the cavern appears to be waning, fading away with the wind. Something is going on in this cavern, and it’s difficult to tell what her role is in all of this. At least her unlit torch is still burning.

Leaf joins with a few other Children of the Forest, and they whisper to each other and then take the her out to the top of the cliff, now there seems to be more snow and mist outside, but it appears to be heading away from her. Dead men try to enter, but they disintegrate upon entering the cave.

How did the Walker get in then? Why was the power of the cave restored? Now she looks down and sees that her body has faded into that of an old woman. It was her, that restored power to the cave, but why her? Did she have some connection to this place? This situation just unsettles her. Now she looks down at the moving objects below and the picture gets a little clearer.

Finally she sees it, one gigantic army of the dead, all moving South towards where she just left, but none of the dead men have eyes for her. As old as she is, she will probably be dead soon. Seems like she played her part.

Even more odd, is that her ruby necklace is gone.

Thoros of Myr

Beric has seen better days, but then again, so has he. His companion’s breath doesn’t seem to be as labored as it previously was, however. Looks like something is changing, but who knows if it’s a good or bad change?

It’s unclear as to how they will make it past this obstacle since even their flames are not guiding them.

The children here seem to know more than he could ever claim to. Maybe he’s just drunk, and unable to form rational thoughts.

Sounds like a problem best suited for more Ale.

Ser Jorah seems to be at a loss, he is not fond of this place, nor should he be, nothing but cold and death here. But yet, his father is Lord Commander and he is a Northman.

“Sers, something is wrong…” Bran says cryptically.

“You mean something else is wrong?” Ser Jorah asks.

The boy nods.

“They are coming for us now, I am guiding the Lady Melisandre, but the dead are now heading here. They must know a way around our defenses. When I enacted my plan, I didn’t realize that the Night King would adapt as well. He is taking a different approach and he will need to be stopped before he gets too powerful. I need to go to the Last Hearth, or they will make it through the Wall sooner than I thought. I need to be ready to face them, and I must contact the King and the Lords of the realm to come and defend against them.” Bran announces.

None of them like the sound of this. Can Beric even move without dying?

Beric now gets up clumsily and makes his way towards Bran. “Thank you lad, I do believe that whatever you had the Lady do helped saved me.” Beric says to the boy.

“You saved me, I just returned the favor kind Ser.” Bran says with his breath visible, and he shudders a small bit.

“They are here.” Bran says seriously.

The mood of the men turns solemn and silence prevails for a time.

“Hodor.” Bran says, and the giant man looks up. “We must go to the Last Hearth, but I need to send ravens right now.” The boy now grabs several parchments and starts writing fervently, after finishing each letter he lays back and his eyes go vacant and milky white.

Ravens start to fly in to the chambers where they are located, and the boy wakes, he instructs the men of the Night’s Watch to attach each letter to a Raven, and they do so. Bran then sends each raven on its way, looks like he sent about twenty ravens.

“I have to go. What will you do, Meera?” Bran asks, while the girl is watching over her brother.

“I will come with you. I need to protect Jojen, he seems convinced that he has to die, not if I can help it.” Meera replies.

“I will ask your father to come to Last Hearth, Jojen had told Lord Reed that he would not return. He will be confused and yet happy, if we make it.” Bran says, after they hold hands for a time.

“You are different, at first Jojen told me you would become like that creepy old man, but you are mostly still you. What changed?” Meera asks.

“Losing my little brother, to the same people that my father always told me to protect, that did something, I had to change it or I would have been just like him.” Bran says.

She stares at Jojen, still unconscious, and then looks back to Bran and nods.

A horn blows, from the top of the wall. Everyone present looks up with concern, the brothers in black start gearing for battle, and the horn blows a second time quickly.

A third horn blast, and they are on the way to the top of the Wall to see what is happening below.

Walking out on the battlements of Eastwatch, the air feels cold and stifling.

No one is speaking whatsoever, and Beric is limping his way to the edge to see what is happening.

He looks down to see pure horror and it rattles him to his core.

Two White Walkers are there with several animals and people, one to the left, and one to the right. The one on the left butchers three or four horses, spraying their blood all over the snow and spreading the body parts into a spiral pattern, the one on the right does this simultaneously, but with humans, now there are two spirals, with fresh red blood underneath.

What the fuck?

Now a different looking White Walker, Others as they are called, gets off of his dead horse dragging a body.

The Night King.

An arrow sails towards the blue eyed creature and a dead man runs into the path of the arrow, sacrificing itself. A chill goes up his spine. For each arrow trying to stop the strange ritual taking place, another dead man gets in the way to block. They are not yet close enough for the wildfire weapons to be of use, but a burning arrow is shot at the Night King. The Nights Watchman curses at the flame going out when it gets close to the cold winds. 

Still the dead men come forth and block the path to their King, catching each approaching arrow with their bodies.

The Night King now gets closer to the Wall, and is still dragging the shivering, skin and bones, elderly body. Now the Great Other places his hands on the elderly man, ripping his body, organs, and bones apart, was this the Three Eyed Raven that they boy told him about?

The blood from this old man is dark red, nearly black, as if he was dead already. Strange tidings, but everyone present is looking at the ice-clad monster’s performance. Unable to look away, the Night King spreads the Three Eyed Raven’s body parts into a spiral pattern as well.

The three patterns start glowing. Two bright red, and the other nearly black, the dark red glow is so dark. Bad time to be a drunk, no one will be live this story if he lives to tell it.

He turns up his flask again and empties it, if he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die with a belly full of rum.

A flaming arrow hits the spiral, glowing black, and it catches fire, the smoke from it seems to burn and quickly, with the surrounding area getting dark and nearly pitch black.

Now a raven flies closer to him and flies to Beric, with a glowing red ruby in its talons.

Beric grabs the ruby and it burns his skin a little. He can hear the sizzle, and it distracted him from the smoke below.

He hears commotion and it sounds like fear and terror.

The smoke makes its way up to them on top of the wall, and up to the clouds, this is happening faster than it should be possible, and the only thing visible now is blue eyes down below. The darkness spreads, but not past the Wall. Beyond the Wall, however is pitch black, and there is no visibility whatsoever. Darkness overtakes all, and if there was ever a time he needed the Lord of Light it is now.

“Beric.” He says.

“Aye.”

They let their hands run over their swords it one last ditch effort to light the swords, and they set ablaze this time. Now those flames are the only thing that anyone can see. 

The other thing that bothers him is that the whole time they were speaking down below with the children and the Red Woman he had seen neither hide nor hair of the Wildling, the one that died by dragonglass, and the other that was slashed by the Shadowcat.

If the other one inside the Wall died...then they are all fucked...

The Long Night starts now, and he’s too drunk to feel anything but the world spinning around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I never know how these things turn out.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets ready to go North. Robb follows.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

Reading Bran’s raven from the Wall, the familiar cold of the north returns to his body, feeling like icy hands wrapped around his throat. Seems difficult to breathe at this point. It feels like Hardhome all over again, the only difference now is that he has all the power in Westeros. However his son is to be born soon, so now there is a choice, between love and duty.

He is pacing back and forth, unable to shake the fact that this is really happening.

‘Love is the death of duty,’ echoes in his head.

_Damn it, you are always right Maester Aemon._

He and the Queen are at Dragonstone, they had snuck away for a small bit of alone time, but the Kingsguard is ever present, Ghost even sailed along with them, he doesn’t stay far away from Daenerys these days. Neither does he for that matter. Ghost is in the corner, unbothered.

Another reason for his concern is that he likely has to go North again. Not looking forward to it. He’s a dragon now, not really a wolf, as he once was. There was a time where all he wanted was to be a Northman, that seems so long ago now.

“Fuck the North.” He says under his breathe. They likely still don’t respect his wife, and that will change very quickly if the northerners know what is good for them.

“Aye.” Daenerys says back to him, mocking him. She bangs a mug on the table in jest, with a bright smile that lightens up his mood. She always could do that, he wonders, is this what replaces the darkness in his heart now, Fire and Blood?

“You’re going then?” She asks.

He nods, and her look pierces his eyes and into his soul.

“I get it, my love, you have all of Westeros behind you now, but I still don’t want you to go. They can handle it without you can’t they?” She asks.

“I must, if Rhaegar is born before the Night King is dead, then I may just let them all burn…We may just fly off to Essos and let the dead have them.” He replies.

She gets down on one knee, with a hand on her belly, subconsciously minding the babe.

“Your Grace, I’m not happy about it, but I accept my King’s decisions.” She says with a tiny grin that he’s sure she’s trying to hide.

This woman has something on her mind. What is she planning...?

He walks over to her to help her up and as soon as he puts his hands on her shoulders, she takes out a blade and cuts the fastens on his trousers, followed by the blade slicing upwards and cutting his shirt off. He had no smallclothes on, since that’s what she commanded, and no one refuses an order of that variety. Now his clothes fall away and she takes him into her hand, stroking and jerking his hardened member.

So that’s what she was planning…no problems here…

She takes him into her mouth and now he’s backed up to the wall of the dark stone castle as she continues sucking, licking, and stroking him. This moment is worth all the Seven Kingdoms, and he has not much desire to leave.

He’s not going anywhere at the moment. Now mostly paralyzed with ecstasy, with his hands back against the wall, the pleasure has overcome his senses. This beautiful woman pleasing him, is perhaps greater than wearing a crown, a dream of the highest magnitude, something that makes him feel like a fucking idiot for ever refusing her, a poor judgement on his part.

It continues for some time, and he hasn’t moved at all, she is devouring him now with all types of ferocity with the voracious appetite that she tends to exhibit from time to time, and he’s close.

“Dany...” He says. “I’m…about to…” While his body shakes and convulses...the climax comes rushing forth, and afterwards his mind comes back to the world around him, and consciousness returns, along with his senses and fortitude.

She is smiling brightly at him now. “You have soiled my dress, Your Grace, it is a good thing I have another.”

Helping her up, which she doesn’t seem to care for, judging from the way she is staring at him when he grabs her hand, she gets up and goes over to her wardrobe, replacing the dress she was wearing with a new one. He watches her intently the entire time, and then she starts checking his reaction to her pleasing him. She seems to be going back and forth between apprehension and longing, with a small bit of sadness. Understandable notions, truly.

“I feel like the King of the world now, thank you, Dany. You are as stubborn as you are beautiful, and that’s what I love about you.” He says to the Queen.

“You are what you speak of, are you not?” She retorts, with a laugh. Daenerys starts to look out of the corner of her eye, and off into the distance somewhat. Clearly, she seems to have something on her mind. She gets closer to him, and whispers in his ear.

“You will go, I am surely not going to command you to stay, but you will live, and our son will have a father. Otherwise, I will hunt down your dead body, and once I find it I will burn the Northerners one by one, for not protecting their King. You are my husband, and you will stay that way until the end of our days, but you will not leave me so easily.”

“I was wrong, you know.” He replies.

She looks confused at him and responds. “Wrong about what?”

“I’m still afraid of you.” He retorts.

She laughs, and finally speaks. “Good.”

“Now, go to the fucking North, this time as the King of the world, as you so eloquently put it. Not as ‘The King in the North.’” She says mocking his formerly, and mostly unpleasant title.

“Now come here, and let’s get you ready for war, Your Grace.” She says to him.

She ushers him to sit in a chair and when he does, she clips his hair so that it is short enough to not get in his eyes, gratuitously kissing him a few times. She fastens his Valyrian Steel armor, and never has it felt heavier.

They proceed to talk for a while about the protocols of keeping the dead from getting south, and each keep that will be used as a stronghold, if it comes to that. Bran’s raven should have reached the High Lords of Westeros now, and everyone should be heading North at this point.

Plans put forth, regions secured, the two monarchs are ready to defend their people, with Fire and Blood, and perhaps a little bit of Winter is Coming.

They walk out to the beaches, to see each other off, and before he leaves, he kneels down to kiss the babe in her womb. The babe feels warm, and he kicks around in her belly when he hears them talking, and the crashing waves on the beaches.

“I love you, dragon in wolf’s skin.” She says with a look of love, and trace amounts of fear.

“I love you, scariest woman I have ever met.” They kiss, and they both close their eyes, whisking themselves elsewhere for only a few moments.

Then he runs, full speed in the opposite direction, and jumps off of the cliffs. The salty air feels great on his face while falling, but he probably should have warned Daenerys first, because she shrieked at his antics.

He lands softly on Rhaegal’s back, and they take to the skies together. He blows her a kiss and she looks like she would throw a dagger at him, if he hadn’t just taken them from her.

He flies to the capital, to pick up a few passengers.

Robb Stark

Sitting in with the Small Council, this time in the tower of the Hand, they are discussing the protocols of the march North, and what forces will stay to protect the Queen. She will remain on Dragonstone, where Ser Barristan will send ravens if they have need of it, it’s easier to protect her on an island, the council reasons.

From his instructions as Master of War, the northerners are to dig a low moat of oil eight hundred paces outside of each northern castle. The others informed him that fire and dragonglass were the best weapons against the dead, so the first trench, the usual two hundred paces, will be dragonglass traps, filled with pitch, and wood, so they will send obsidian shrapnel will they are set aflame.

The council seemed astonished when he mentioned that strategy, but who did they think they were dealing with? He is the Young Wolf after all. Plus, they have fought this enemy before, so the actions of the dead men are predictable, almost like the Lannister soldier.

This Night King is now just another Tywin Lannister to Robb, with the way that their subordinates follow orders mindlessly.

The Kingsguard will stay with the Queen on the Island, and protect Daenerys and the Prince, and the Hand will run the capital. Talisa and the babe will be staying in the capital, but once they have word on the progress of the army of the dead they will come north, but only when safe.

Now a roar of a dragon shakes the entire tower, and a thud wakes him from his thoughts.

The King comes walking in, with the rest of the Council touting ‘Your Grace’ when his brother walks in.

Jon just surveys the scene, taking it in since it may be sometime before he sees it again, and nods to the council.

“Ser Barristan, the capital is yours, keep these Lords in line. Furthermore, protect my family and I’ll see each of you rewarded properly. Robb, come, we have a darkness to light, brother.”

He walks out of the Hand’s meeting place, not bothering to look back.

Before he knows it, he’s staring down a green and bronze dragon, that somehow looks just as melancholic as Jon. Talisa and his son are at the top of the tower waiting for him. The babe is reaching for him, with his tiny fingers extending one by one like small tentacles, and making imperceptible sounds as he quickly looks around at the scenery. Grey Wind is there too, knowing as always. He grabs the babe, and kisses his rosy cheeks, then Talisa comes along and whispers “Come home safe,” In his ear. With any luck, the rest of his family will march north after the army is at least contained. He runs his hand over Grey Wind’s fur and his familiar lets out a small whine, before going over and nuzzling his son.

He and his wife kiss and then Jon comes over and hugs Talisa, before tickling his son’s little feet and being granted a childish laugh that brightens the otherwise somber mood.

Now Jon basically grabs him away and throws him on the dragon, before jumping on himself, and now they take flight.

He had thought that he had enough excitement in his life, war, a coronation, another life remembered, a new life brought into this world, but flying on the dragon is a new test for his heart. The maps that he had studied as if they were one of the Old Gods have come to life, the terrain being much more detailed in person, and from above. He could see armies marching, horses and wagons being loaded, structures that he would have thought were exaggerated if he had not seen them in person, the Vale in particular looking as impregnable as his mother always told him.

_It was difficult to not see Jon as some sort of god at this point, what can’t he do? I’ll not tell him that, however. Enough ass kissing in the royal court as it is._

The contrast was clear when they took the turn North, the white ice, starting to set sharply in hue against the dark brown dirt, followed by green, and occasionally yellow and brown grassy southern areas. Bright blue rivers, reflecting the sunlight, and grey and brown wooded small homes, it almost feels like Maester Luwin is tapping on each area as his eyes fixate on the various regions of Westeros. It seems as if they have entered another map altogether, when the summer snows start falling over the Neck, and its green swamps and bogs. The air turns more crisp, and the cold starts to work his way up his arms and into his torso and neck.

_Feels like I’m a southern wolf now. Hopefully the Northerners will still follow me. What am I saying? Of course they will, I’ll even have the blessing of Kings Landing for once, not to mention a dragon._

Himself and Jon fly right onto the clearing made for them in Winter town, and walk in stride together for the gathering of the Northerners, and several southerners too, as he could tell from the banners on the camps, before he falls back to follow the King.

They walk into the gates of Winterfell, and the various Lords start staring at the both of them, looking directly at him and the King. The southern lords present start kneeling, not the northerners, however.

This is a bit odd, but there is no hostility present among the Northerners, but the Wildlings don’t kneel either. There is not much formality to be had here. Many plans to be had. Jon indicates to rise, to the southern lords.

Rickon, the littlest Stark of them all, comes running forward with his Skagos helmet on, and his dark fur coat, looking just like a tiny warrior, the sight of him warms his heart. He hugs the both of them and has a huge grin on his little face. Osha and Shaggy are standing over beside where Rickon just came from, observing the scene.

“Jon! Robb! You look like men now, and what’s that hair on your faces? Will I grow that too?” Rickon says as he adjusts his helmet, he starts touching their faces where the hair is present and then rubs his own face. The brothers share a laugh together, and for the briefest of moments, his anxiety is dissipated.

“You will, it should be seven or eight namedays, and it will start itching first, but first we have some dead men to burn, before that happens.” Jon says.

“You have been doing well, Rickon, I’m sorry you had to be the Stark in Winterfell this time, but I’m glad you are alive, little brother.” Robb says.

Rickon turns his blue eyes on him, and stares a bit, but then he smiles and put his hand on his shoulder.

Sansa and Arya are also there. With Sansa looking uncomfortable but still somewhat enthusiastic, looking strangely at Jon, and Arya looking happy to see her family reunited.

They are now conversing together, with the subject being the dead men and Bran.

“Bran says he made it to the Last Hearth, I don’t know why he wanted to go there, but him and Hodor, are there safe, with the other two, Jojen and Meera.” Rickon pauses as if to remember something, and then continues.

“Bran says the dead haven’t broken through the Wall yet, but they are smarter than they were the last time, Bran said to tell you that.” Rickon announces.

There are officers from the Northern camps, as well as some Stormlanders, Riverlanders, men from the Vale, Lannister men, Dornishmen, and Wildlings. They are all looking to Jon for guidance, seemingly awaiting orders.

_Looks like they still respect me though, that’s a weight off my shoulders._

They all head in to the Great Hall together, while they walk in, mother is standing there and as Jon walks by he side eyes her as he passes her, but doesn’t say a word to her. She curtsies to Jon and no one seems to notice.

Jon goes to sit at the head table, followed by him and Rickon, Arya and Sansa have seats at the table as well. Mother is standing off to the side, and he can see Theon trying to hide in the distance.

There is just no time for either of them. Looks like Sansa and Theon keep eyeing each other for some odd reason as well…

After Jon sits down, the rest of the Lords in the Great Hall follow suit. He knew they would, but it is just too strange seeing the north so passive, someone is going to open their mouth soon, he can feel it.

“If anyone would like to ask for Northern Independence, I’m listening.” Jon says.

The Great Hall starts booming with laughter, he’s really good at this.

“How are we doing on the trenches, My Lords?” Jon asks.

Greatjon Umber jumps up and starts speaking. “We have the first one, two hundred paces out no problem, it’s ready to go. The second one, eight hundred paces out, is the problem, Your Grace, the ground is too hard with solid ice, so we only got a head and a half deep, not enough to satisfy those Ladies from Bear Island, I reckon.” A few of the Northern Lords chuckle a little at the Greatjon.

“Aye, My Lord, fill it with oil, and I’ll do the rest.” Jon says, as the Greatjon just looks confused.

“I brought a dragon, Lord Umber.” Jon says to the Greatjon.

Understanding flashes on Lord Umber’s face, and he gives the order to fill the second trench with oil.

A lord now stands up and his chair skids on the floor. “Dragons in the North,” Robett Glover scoffs, “You are no Aegon Targaryen, we can old our own against these dead men, we don’t need these southerners or the Wildlings to-“

Arya throws a dagger quickly and it scrapes Lord Glover’s shoulder and pins his cloak to the stone wall. “Lord Glover, I give you one chance and one chance only to reconsider who the fuck you are talking to, otherwise, you will not wake up tomorrow.”

The hall is filled with gulps.

“Have any of you Lords ever been beyond the Wall? Give me a show of hands.” Jon says.

None of the northerners raise their hands. They have the decency to look ashamed at this. All of the Wildlings have their hand up, unsurprisingly. Osha smiles at this.

“If you haven’t been beyond the Wall, then you don’t really know what we face, we face death, but not the easy, it’s a plague, that wants you to be part of it’s legions, and the Wildings know better than you lot, on this. It’s cold in the north, aye, but that has nothing to do with the weather, you have a direwolf sigil stuck up your asses and that’s why you get so bristly with the southerners. We have a common enemy, and we will destroy him before he destroys us. Are we clear on this?” Jon booms out at the pompous lords.

Silence over takes the hall.

“Aye, Your Grace.” He says loudly to the Great Hall. Now Rickon says aye, followed by Arya, Sansa, Mother, the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Mormonts, the Manderlys, the Lannisters, and now the word ‘aye’ echoes through the Great Hall.

_Long live the King._

“Now let’s finish our preparations, before you lot turn into frozen, blue-eyed corpses.” Jon says and leaves the Great Hall. He tries to follow close behind, but Jon is rushing out, probably so that he doesn’t kill one of these men.

They make it to the ramparts of Winterfell, and the sky looks darker than it should be, their flight only took about three or four hours, and it should be about midday, but it seems like it’s about to turn night, with the daylight disappearing into the clouds. Black clouds are north of where they stand, and it seems to cause a bit of commotion.

Jon goes out beyond the walls of the castle and the green dragon flies down to him. His brother climbs on the dragon’s back and flies over to the shallow trench, with the ring of black oil, around the castle. The dragon lets out a roaring flame, that catches the oil ablaze, creating a ring of fire, and a second trench for when the dead come. Now the trench is several heads deep, enough to trap a man, and slow his progress.

After the oil burns out, Jon flies around a bit, and unsheathes his sword, raising high in the air, on instinct. The sword appears to be glowing red, and it apparently lights the darkening clouds that were encroaching on the north. Now it looks like a summer day again, and the castle inhabitants are astonished at the power of this young King.

Jon lands from his flight, then walks back into the castle and upon his entry to the gate everyone kneels, Wildlings and all.

_Tell me my brother is not a god._

Not for the first time nor the last, the current King of Westeros has subdued every part of Westeros, and it seems that the army of the dead, is the next thing for Jon Snow, no Jaehaerys Targaryen to set ablaze with the fires of life.

_Perhaps there is something to this Fire and Blood mantra after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm glad that I could make a story someone wanted to read.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran sees what he must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little different. It takes place in several locations, I hope it works.

Bran Stark, The Three Eyed Raven

“Bran, why are we here, at the Last Hearth?” Meera asks apprehensively.

“You cursed this place, didn’t you?” Jojen accuses.

“I saw a winged wolf, with three eyes and three legs, he had put curses on a Weirwood, then Giants with chains on started falling one by one when the snowstorm came. That was you...I didn’t know what that meant before, but that was because they gave up Rickon wasn’t it?” Jojen asks, staring at him with those perceptive green eyes.

He doesn’t respond.

“I have to remove the curse from this place, before the dead here start rising. The Great Other can raise the dead in the crypts before the curse is lifted.” He tells the group.

“These bodies in the crypts here, that weren’t burned, they were touched by White Walkers in the Long Night...that’s why they can rise...hurry up and lift it then, I’ll help you.” Jojen says.

“Ho-dor.” Hodor says, frightened and shaking.

“Meera, I will be away for a while, will you protect me please? The sword on your back, Dark Sister, will be your best weapon against the dead.” He asks the girl warrior.

She nods in response.

“Lord Howland and a few Crannogmen will be here, you will not be alone for long, but I keep getting the sense that I’m missing something that the Night King doesn’t want me to see. Something I can’t remember, or that he took from me when he tried to take me from my vision.” He tells them, getting nods from both Reed children.

_Did I curse another castle? I would remember that wouldn’t I?_

Jojen looks confused, he is resigned to whatever he has seen, and won’t tell anyone.

“Here I go, thank you for being my friends, and helping me.” He tells them before he touches the Heart tree. This will the first Weirwood that he’s touched this side of the Wall, since he became the Three Eyed Raven. His hand is shaking, because he doesn’t know what to expect.

Now his mind takes to the skies...

A young red-haired girl is talking to her mother, in the midst of Winter. Neither of them seem cold, however, and there is a small fire in their tents.

“The Wall and the Crows will stop you, Melody, you cannot go south.” A woman says.

“I have to go to dark dragon castle in the south, that’s where the Prince who was Promised will be. I will wait as long as it takes. I know from the fires, mother, they showed me. The Others are not all gone.They will come back, and I must help where I can. Each time we fight them, they get stronger. I can’t just sit here and wait for them to take us all.” The girl says.

“Absolutely not! Now go to bed, we can sleep for the first night in a long while, enjoy it child.” The woman says.

The girl waits until everyone sleeps, and then sneaks away, she steals a horse and rides for the sea, where the Wall ends.Now the girl takes a boat and heads south. She is on the look out for a dark castle with dragons, but the winds carry her east, unbeknownst to her…and after the calming nature of the sea takes hold of her, she falls asleep.

She wakes up in a different boat. There are people there, the girl is still calm, she hasn’t ever had men as an enemy only, only dead men, and animals.

“What’s your name girl?” A man in lavish silk robes asks.

“Melody.” The girl replies.

The man is rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“Melody, well, that name won’t do. We will call you Melisandre from now on.” The man says with a terrible grin.

She is confused, and she looks at the man strangely, before the man puts her in chains and takes her.

“Where to, master?” A slave with a brand on his face comes in and asks the lavishly clad man.

“Asshai.” The master returns.

His mind flies elsewhere…

A brother of the Night’s Watch, Janos Slynt, goes down towards the gate of Eastwatch, while hearing the banging on the gate of dead men running full speed into the metal door. Growls, snarls, snaps, teeth chattering, bone crunches, swipes, and scratches fill the room. He lights a torch so that he can see. As soon as he does a body rises, and he can see a claw mark on the man’s back, festering and dark, where the blood should be. The coward runs away scared, when he sees that the eyes of the man are bright blue, and runs back up the stairs. The dead man does not follow, instead the wight heads to the gate where the clanging and banging sounds are and pulls the chain slightly, letting the gate up just a little, now a few dead men come crawling in, underneath the gate. Their brittle bodies open up the gate even more when they make it through, but the gate has dragon glass spikes welded into it, it serves as a bottle neck, and kills all the wights that scrape against them, but the dead still come pouring in. The dead men that touch the wall are instantly disintegrated, but there are more and more making it through.

The army of the dead heads through the wall, flooding in every direction, instead of singularly purposed. They don’t know where Bran is yet. After several hundred of the dead men make it through the gate, A dead giant comes and knocks the gate down, but hitting the dragonglass spikes and destroying itself in the process. A white walker walks through the gate, slowly but determinedly, and surveys the scene. The Other lets out a screech like glass and ice, and the wall starts creaking and cracking, but the Wall is stronger than this monster and the White Walker shatters, the Wall’s power defeated this creature.

That Other did this on purpose…Why? Is that how they call to the dead? Are dead men going to start rising from the ground? These unsettling questions remind him of the thing the Night King wanted to forget…

Domeric Bolton sits in the Dreadfort, the last Bolton nearly alone since the bulk of their forces abandoned them. No ravens have come there, they are essentially a forgotten people. He was torn on whether to go to Winterfell to swear fealty, but the fact that no one has come to threaten him, nor ask for his forgiveness in killing his father and brother keeps him in place.

“Mayhaps being invisible is a good thing, Maester.” Domeric says to Maester Ulthor.

“Doubtful my Lord, the truth is, we are just not that important.” The Maester replies.

Domeric sighs. “I would like to say they are fools for believing in dead men, but dragonglass is very high priced right now, so we don’t have any, and there are many people spreading tales of the dead rising with blue eyes.”

“I still don’t believe such tales, My Lord, though I suppose that is the Citadel training in me, cynical to the very end-“ Screaming outside cuts off the conversation, and Maester Ulthor and Lord Bolton go to check the source of the screaming, and oddity because it has been quiet there for a long time.

“Have the Starks finally come for us?” Domeric asks.

They go out to the courtyard and see men being cut down, sliced open, bitten, slashed, scratched, and stabbed by blue-eyes men that have been flayed, and also men that appear to have been dead a very long time.

After a short while, more and more dead men come pouring out of the Dreadfort’s dungeons, and the men that were just killed, start rising. The dead men come forth and swarm the castle, where there is not one bit of dragonglass or Valyrian Steel present…

He wakes from his vision.

“They are coming.” He says as soon as he looks around at his companions. He notices that he has felt colder than when he first entered his visions. Meera pulls Dark Sister out and gets ready for battle, Jojen looks impassive and looks at his sister for a short time. Hodor is shivering cold and he feels bad for gentle giant protector, but he can’t just let him die.

_Do something, the dead are looking for you._

He touched the tree again quickly, looking for a solution, while the horn blows three times.

“Jon...are you there?” He says, afraid for his life.

No answer.

“Jon, Jon we are going to die!” He yells out through the Heart Tree.

Rickon appears before his eyes. They are ever linked together. “Bran, what’s wrong? Jon is here, but he’s guiding the troops.” Rickon asks.

“I need Jon, get him, please, Rickon, they are coming for us!But they don’t know where we are.”

He impatiently waits while Rickon runs out of Winterfell’s Godswood.

He can hear screaming in the background, along with chants of ‘Fight for the North!’ ‘Fight for men!’ along with metal clanging and crunching snow in the background.

Finally Jon appears.

“Bran I’m here, what have you seen?” The King asks. Rickon is standing next to Jon with his hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

“It’s horrible...the Night King...he kept me blind to the Dreadfort, he raised the dead that were touched by White Walkers in the last Long Night and they are raising all the dead bodies. They are now spreading throughout the North, and the dead have made it through at Eastwatch. A wound felled the Wildling that was protecting me and he was able to let the rest of the dead in, we need the Wildfire, but we need to burn the Dreadfort and they are here now, outside the Last Hearth.”

Jon is rubbing his chin in thought. “Got it, anything else I need to know?” The King asks, with widened eyes and heavy breathing.

“No, I don’t think so.” He says, trying to remember, screams are crowding his memory. Jon runs away, heading to the men to give orders.

Rickon his still there. “Relax Bran, you need to breathe, remember what you told me, right? Wolves have no fear of the cold, quit your shivering, and you taught me how to spot liars, why did you lie to Jon?”

“I had to let him go, I didn’t want to worry about-“

The Night King appears in his vision, suddenly staring his cold, blue eyes at the two boys. The boys back away in fear and the Night King grabs their arms, quickly, and the frosty chill travels up his arm and to the rest of his body.

They have been marked.

He wakes up in the Godswood, nearly alone, save for Summer and Hodor. Suddenly, he gets an idea.

“Hodor, tie me to Summer’s back. We have no time.” He says to the confounded giant, staring blankly.

“Now, Hodor!, I need to be moving, he knows where I am!” He yells out.

Hodor now comes over, strapping him to the direwolf’s back. “Hodor, Hodor.” His protector says the entire time.

“I’m sorry, Summer, will you be able to make it with me on your back?” He says to his wolf.

Summer just pants, then he starts growling.

“We can’t light the trench! It’s too fucking cold out there!” The Umber men start shouting.

“It doesn’t matter, we need to beat them back before we do that!” Another man shouts.

Now the dead start encroaching on their position, he can hear the snarls and growls.

Jojen walks out into the courtyard, swarming with dead men. The dead men don’t seem to have eyes for the young Reed, as he looks closer he can tell that smoke is rising from Jojen’s clothing.

Flames start to engulf his companion, and he knew that Jojen had survivor’s guilt, but not that it was that bad. Jojen now runs towards the trench, starting to catch fire, and he runs and runs before he collapses. The flames pour over his body and he knows that he is surely going to die.

Worse still, is that he didn’t make it to the trench…

He and Meera look at each other with knowing expressions, they both could have done more, but there is not time for regrets.

The dead are climbing the Walls of the Last Hearth, finding the Umber men and slaughtering them, with a swarm of dead men and animals.

_They are trying to find me…But now they know where I am…The Great Other exploited the connection between me and Rickon…I saved my little brother, but I may have doomed us all…_

Summer starts growling, and it shakes his whole body, the only solace he can find is his wolf’s fur is strikingly warm, making him feel protected from the coming storm.

He closes his eyes, as the dead start gaining ground on the living, with the Umber men being vastly outnumbered. The Northmen now make their final push to make a stand against the stampeding horde, chanting ‘Others take this blade.’

Just as it looks lost, another rumbling force arriving with chants disrupts his thoughts.

It’s the Night’s Watch, marched south from Castle Black. They relieve the Umber forces, slicing through the dead with mounted fighters. Still outnumbered, but more even than before.

“We are?” Jeor Mormont asks.

“The shield that guards the realms of men!” The Brothers in Black shout in reply.

“These are not men before us! Send them to all the Seven Hells!” The Lord Commander says.

The men all cheer, inside and outside the castle. He notices there a crannogmen, led by an older man, mounted on a horse, shouting commands.

A fierce battle ensues, with the marching fighters from the Night’s Watch and the men of Greywater Watch fighting side by side with the Umber men. The army of the dead still swarms around the castle, converging on his position, but the Night’s Watch had greatly slowed their progress.

A few dead men come running for him, and Hodor ducks underneath a stable clearing.

He quickly realizes he’s not a fighter, and laments his inability, Meera now comes running towards them and swiftly destroys the dead men with Dark Sister.

More dead men come forth now, they had snuck around the backside of the castle, creeping into the Godswood, looks like a few more than just one person could handle.

Meera holds her own, but she starts to get overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of dead men, attacking from all sides, he can see Hodor in the corner, rocking back in forth in fear, saying, “Hodor, Hodor,” completely terrified. He had told himself he would not warg Hodor anymore, but he is not sure that there is any choice.

Now a flap of wings, with a huge, and terribly cold gust of wind, knocks Meera and the dead men down to the ground. The dead men start to grab her ankles, and pull her towards the group, but she slices them, before more grab on to her, forcing her to use the sword as a barrier to hold the dead men back from biting her face and throat.

Jon now comes forth and kills the dead men near Meera, and she quickly gets up. They stand back to back and methodically kill the dead men, with the dragon’s flames torching a few of them, reducing them to ashes in mere moments.

Blistering cold hits his face now, along with a sense of dread that creeps down his body. It feels as if all the hairs on the back of his neck started standing up.

Several White Walkers walk forward towards them. Dead blue eyes, staring in his pupils, threatening to freeze his soul along with the rest of him.

Hodor comes forth and lightly says “Hodor,” with his teeth chattering through his oft-repeated phrase. 

Meera and the King engage the White Walkers. All they need is one stab with the Valyrian Steel, but the Walkers keep dodging. They are either extremely fast, or the cold that they brought slows the reflexes just a bit. Mayhaps both, neither one a particularly reassuring thought.

They both kill a White Walker after a time, with a screech and a shatter, but there are still more Walkers. The dragon is flying low, but the attention is all on him. They want the Three Eyed Raven, and they are trying to get him by any means necessary.

The dragon swoops in and grabs him and Summer in his claws, followed by Hodor and Meera in the other claw.

This gets the White Walkers focused on the green dragon now. Jon slices a few Others that try to attack the dragon with their spears, and one such Other pulls out a spear and hurls it at Jon, as he tries to get on to the dragon, faltering a bit with the weight of his passengers, as it is not yet fully grown, but still rather large.

The spear hits Jon’s Valyrian Steel armor, and it shatters, but Jon’s armor cracks and slowly falls, looks like it left a dent, because he can see blood dripping under the armor as it peels from the King’s body, and is removed.

The King still has another set of clothing on underneath, a black and red tunic, with his royal sigils on it, but the direwolf sigil on his chest has a bit of blood on it.

Rhaegal takes flight at the Kings command, they can seemingly speak without words now.

The dragon flies with great labor, lifting him and Summer, Meera, and Hodor.

There are no words exchanged, while flying, except, “Hodor,” from his ever present protector.

While heading south, he can see the dead still trying to swarm, but being beat back by the Night’s Watch, and the Umber men, along with the Reed soldiers from the Neck, the battle is still raging on.

Looking at the Godswood, he can see several more Others converging on the King. His glowing red sword is quick and decisive, but there are more of the White Walkers heading towards the King. It’s haunting, as they fly away south.

Rhaegal gets lower to the ground, as they get closer to Winterfell, once they finally do, everyone is looking up at them. The green dragon crashes softly into the ground and slides into the Godswood, still protecting the four of them.

Now the dragon is unconscious, and the four of them are all safe, but with minor scrapes, nothing to be worried about now.

The dead are coming soon. The dead from the Dreadfort are already close, likely having picked up more bodies along the way.

He has choices to make, tell Robb, speak to the King, try to find the Night King…

Tough decisions to make, but if this was a game of cyvasse, the choice is simple.

Protect the dragon and the King.

He touches the Weirwood to make his move, resolved to not be useless…

His third eye opens on Dragonstone.

“Your Grace! You shouldn’t be moving this much in your condition, when the ravens come you will get them immediately.” Ser Brienne says to the Queen.

She stubbornly walks down the stairs towards the Godswood, not listening in the slightest.

“If there is something to know, I must know it, you don’t understand yet, but it calls to me. There is something I must do, I feel it in my blood.” Daenerys says.

Snow is falling on the southern island, and he can see their breath emanating from their faces, she has no fur on, but he can tell she is cold, but unconcerned.

The Queen makes it to the Godswood, “Bran…are you there?” She asks slowly.

“I’m here, Your Grace…” He replies.

“You called to me?” She asks.

“The King did, he’s at the Last Hearth, he saved me, but he’s surrounded by White Walkers, he needs to beat them back, and he’s alone.” He tells the Queen.

She quickly puts her hand on the Heart Tree, before he could inform her of the consequences.

It was sunset, when he just saw Dragonstone, and now it is clearly night. Also he is up on the cliffs, with a very pregnant Daenerys, looking just as confused as he. Then she fixes her eyes towards the edge of the cliffs and a hooded figure stands there, right at the edge.

The figure holds their foot out, prepared to jump off of the cliffs, and the Queen grabs the figure before they can make their way off of the edge of the cliffs. He can see the glint of a tear come down the figure’s cheek.

The figure turns around slowly, and then looks at Daenerys, and as soon as he wonders if this person can see him or not, the figure removes their hood, revealing the beautiful, but somewhat bruised face of Rhaella Targaryen.

She stares at Daenerys for what seems like eons, and then they hug each other. They whisper in each others ear, and he dare not intrude on that conversation.

While they are hugging, she looks at him. “Who are you?” She asks directly.

“I’m…Brandon Stark…” He replies.

“I’ve seen Brandon Stark before, you are not him.” Rhaella replies.

“He is, just…not…that Brandon Stark…” Daenerys informs her mother.

She still eyes him suspiciously. Not that he blames her, he looks down at his feet.

They explain to her about the charging army of the dead, but don’t mention the King as of yet.

“So Rhaegar wasn’t mad after all…” Rhaella says with a smile.

“It certainly sounded farfetched, but it’s true, I spoke to him.” Daenerys says.

“Who is the father of your child?” Rhaella asks.

“Rhaegar’s son with Lyanna Stark. Jaehaerys, third of his name.” Daenerys replies.

“He’s the King?”

Daenerys nods.

“You survived then. Viserys?”

She wants to say, but she can’t get the words out.

“He was killed, she was pregnant once before, and he threatened her baby. He was convinced that he was the King and saw her as a threat.” He tells Rhaella.

There is a long silence…

“The King needs us, Daenerys, there must be something that we need here to save him.” He says.

Rhaella pulls a letter from her hooded garment.

“Rhaegar left this to me, I thought he was going mad, and that he didn’t care that we were going to be wiped out. I never even had time to read it.”

It reads:

**_Men are evil, the future is bleak._ **

**_A raven, three-eyed, seldom uses his beak._ **

**_When injustice prevails, then justice must speak._ **

**_Life must be defended, by even the meek._ **

**_After duty gets heavy, then life’s blood must leak._ **

**_If a river of tears must flow down your cheek,_ **

**_be glad you’ve the strength, to admit you are weak._ **

**_The song of Ice and Fire_ **

**_Rhaegar Targaryen._ **

After Daenerys reads the letter, they are pulled back to the Godswood in the present.

She looks down at herself and her water has broken, with a small tinge of blood…

Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne carry her up the stairs…

He can now see Jon being surrounded by White Walkers…the visions are just pulling him towards what he needs to see, now.

When the Walkers get too close to him, Blackfyre’s blade now sets ablaze. A red, orange, and yellow flame, that the closest Others get scorched by and shatter. The blaze gets greater and greater with each White Walker that dies, and then they all shatter with a high-pitched, ear piercing screech.

The living has beat the dead back from the Last Hearth, they light the trench with thunderous cheers and chants as the dead retreat.

They are safe for the moment, but the dead still roam the North, time to take the fight to them before they destroy us all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be away for a few days, I leave this for you until then. Sorry if I don't respond right away.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Westeros battle the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted to split this up over a few chapters, but I ended up making it one, seems that how my writing style goes.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

A flaming sword, that lights the darkness and burns the cold of the dead away. _It saved me, just in the last moments before I got killed._ Then quickly faded away. It still feels a little warm, but not nearly as blazing hot.

_Maybe Daenerys threatened the Lord of Light? That sounds like something that she would do…She’s always saving my ass. He did bring me back once, so it’s not that much of a stretch. Is the Lord of Light afraid of her too?_

He heads outside to oversee the trenches, starting to burn out, and the Night’s Watchmen, Crannogmen and Umber soldiers are drinking together and sharing stories.

Howland Reed is here, the aged man from the Neck, attending to a body near the trench, twitching, and barely breathing. Looks like it’s his son still breathing. The breath is shallow, and it looks like death is coming for him. Lord Reed holds his sons body while the breathing slows to a crawl and eventually stops. The somber mood of the situation rears its ugly head accompanied by an uncomfortable silence…

His former life runs at him full speed when he hears all the familiar voices reminiscing over time past.

“This Targaryen was the prettiest recruit we ever had at the Wall, we should have known he was a damned princess!” The Night’s Watchmen say laughing.

_I’ll allow that one. They don’t exactly teach manners at the Wall. I’m not that easily offended either. Better than a kiss ass._

“What are you saying? That is your King. You are lucky he doesn’t kill you.” Karl Tanner says.

_Look who’s talking._

Clubfoot Karl eyes him now. Here comes the ass kissing. _Shall I kill this man in front of all these people? He hasn’t done anything wrong just yet._

He doesn’t say anything, and goes to sit next to Grenn and Pyp. They look exhausted, breathing heavily. He gestures for horns of ale, and one of the stewards bring them, he hands them to his first companions at the Wall.

“That blood all over you is a great improvement to your face, Grenn.” He tells his friend. Grenn just smiles at him, with his blank stare that he somewhat missed. “I look like a warrior don’t I?” Grenn asks, flexing his muscles.

“Your face scared all the dead away.” Pyp says.

“No, I’m afraid that was something else.” He tells them. They don’t like the sound of that, nor should they.

The men are creating a pyre, and Grenn and Pyp should be helping, but they are here with him, they get up to go help, but he stops them.

_Not so bad being a King. From digging latrine pits, to someone trying to wipe your ass, quite a difference a title and a name make._

Karl Tanner comes and sits next to them now, “Grenn, Pyp, so great to see you.” Karl says with the fakest smile that ever saw, even worse than the ones in the capital.

Grenn and Pyp don’t even look at the newcomer of the group. They just sip on some more of their ale, uncomfortably.

Their thoughts are broken by the roar of marching men, in their direction.

He stands up to observe, and so has everyone else.

It’s the men from Eastwatch, led by Beric and Thoros, and for some reason, there are Karstarks among them. Arnolf and Alys step forward along with a small host, but the Karstarks look fresh, whereas the other men have clearly battled. He notices strange marks on Alys’ body however…

Beric and Thoros are waving their flaming swords around, looking for something to kill.

“Where are they? Let me at em’!” Thoros blurts through drunkened speech.

Thoros points his sword at Arnolf Karstark, “Surely that’s a dead man, isn’t it?”

_Certainly is a decrepit body, it has the look and smell of a corpse, the eyes are not blue, just a cold grey, however._

He looks over at the Night’s Watch that accompanied the Brotherhood, and spots Cotter Pyke, Quorin Halfhand, and Janos Slynt, the coward...

He’s not sure if it’s his anger, or if it’s Blackfyre, but bloodthirst runs through his veins now. He mostly ignored the presence of Bowen Marsh, but that was because he spared Ser Alliser. However, his sword wants blood.

_I can control myself however, a dragon is not a slave…_

Janos starts whispering to Karl Tanner. _That’s not a conversation that interests me in the slightest._

Arnolf Karstark is looking at Alys as if he’d kill her if she says something.

This is more living people than he feels like killing, since they’d start running and he’d have to chase them down. Not a good move in the middle of the war for life.

_Punishment it is then, but how? I have no major qualms of killing these men, but why not use their idiocy against them?_

“Janos Slynt, Karl Tanner, Arnolf Karstark. Come, we have much to discuss.” He says.

They follow along like puppies.

“Your Grace,” they all say. It’s almost too easy.

“I think you deserve a lordship and a castle. Do you agree?” He asks the fools.

They all look at each other and then nod.

“Good, there are men that did not answer the call, go and subdue the men, and I shall grant you lands and titles.” The men perk up at this, and they then start discussing it amongst themselves.

Alys comes over to him, hesitant to speak, but she says “Arnolf is a problem,”

adding no further details.

He nods to the girl, suppressing the vague irritation he experiences from the implications of what she just said.

Arnolf comes over speaks to him after Alys leaves. “If you are going to have your way with her, you don’t have to be gentle. She likes it rough.”

The sting of anger slaps his face, but he just gives the old fart a blank stare.

“You will lead the men on this mission, bring a castle to justice and you will have it for yourself.” He tells the putrid man.

“Which castle are we taking, Your Grace? I would prefer a northern holdfast, my old bones still enjoy the cold.” Arnolf Karstark says.

Tormund and a large host of Wildlings come marching forth and interrupt the conversation, Jorah Mormont is with them, he met them in the field apparently, they look like they have something to say.

“Pretty Dragon King!” Tormund says with a bear hug, the other Wildlings are staring at him with a small bit of awe. Especially the women, one of such women being Karsi. Tormund continues, “we made it later than we thought, we had to go around the-“

He indicates for him to be silent and he acquiesces. The burly Wildling narrows his eyes at him now.

“Karl Tanner, Janos Slynt.” He commands the men to come forth.

“Take Arnolf Karstark and relay this message, you are now Lords Tanner, Slynt, and Karstark, the castle is now yours, take anyone who resists.” He says, trying not to laugh at the idiots.

“What castle are we taking, Your Grace?” Janos Slynt asks.

“The Dreadfort.” He says impassively.

Tormund side eyes him.

Jeor Mormont comes forward, while the three new Lords saddle up and ride south.

“The pyre is ready, Your Grace, it’s time.” The Lord Commander says, and then Mormont eyes the two Nights Watch Brothers heading south with the Northern Lord.

“Where did you send them?” Jeor asks.

“The Dreadfort.” He replies.

“Others take the Dreadfort!” Mormont touts.

“They already have…” Tormund says with a chuckle.

“Now they have three more…recruits.” He says.

“That was a little less than honorable…Your Grace.” Jeor says.

“I meant what I said, if they can subdue the castle then they can have it. It’s unlikely that they will take it when it’s overrun by dead men, they have a slim chance, although I’m not sure that they took dragonglass…” He says with a grin.

They pour horns of ale and share a laugh together.

Now it’s time to burn the dead.

Rhaegal comes roaring forth, looking a bit worse for wear. They both seem to heal faster, since they have bonded, either that or Daenerys really did threaten the Lord of Light.

As he gets ready to give an impromptu speech, the winds get a little colder, and a lone hooded figure, riding an elk, comes forth.

“Time to end this…” The person says, sounding like a dead man, with glass and ice screeching along with some semblance of humanity.

“Uncle Benjen…” He says.

Coldhands takes off his hood and reveals his face to the Black Brothers, silencing them into awe.

Thoros is now running at Coldhands full speed now, along with a roaring battlecry, flailing the flaming sword around like a drunkard.

When Thoros gets close, Uncle Benjen jumps down off of his mount and trips Thoros, sending the drunk man face first into the the pyre, knocking him into the wood structure making up the pyre.

The flaming sword falls and lights the brush and pitch, before the separate sections each catch fire and set ablaze. Uncle Benjen picks up the flaming sword, and then grabs Thoros with his blackened hands, dragging him away from the burning men.

Now heat fills the area, with the smell of smoke and ash permeating the immediate vicinity.

“March south.” Benjen says, as he mounts his elk and rides away.

“By the gods.” Jeor says.

He goes to mount Rhaegal so they can end the dead once and for all.

“Head south men, you will slaughter the dead, and we will live today. Never forget that we fight for this life, and that life itself is a gift!” He shouts as his thoughts turn to his unborn son.

The men shout and cheer, and raise their swords in reverence.

He flies away, headed to Winterfell, as the men prepare to march.

Faintly, he can see below that the three men he sent to the Dreadfort are being ripped apart by the dead men present.

_Only three more dead men to fight, shouldn’t be a problem._

When the grey, old, and spacious castle of his childhood appears, he can see the swarm of dead men fighting outside the gate, with the closest trench lit and burning bright. No Others seem to have appeared yet, but when he gets closer, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror lights on fire again.

_Does it light when the White Walkers are close?_

He can see the Walkers, lined up on dead horses and preparing for an assault, hiding in the Wolfswood, and he can see a waving torch among the walls, in the pattern for the signal to light the second trench.

The battle looks…even?

Warriors from every region are present, making an array of colors, Dornish oranges and yellows, Lannister reds and golds, Vale blues and silvers, Tyrell greens and golds being the more prevalent colors overall, bursting forth against the white snow, peppered with red blood stains like a living canvas of paint, ever in motion.

Rhaegal flies lower and he shouts his entry to the battle for humanity.

“Dracarys!”

His winged companion shoots a bright, hot flame, and lights the second trench, filled with slow burning oil, creating a second ring of fire, along with a warm atmosphere, and now they are closed in, in three sections, inside the castle, where there are fighters stationed to protect the women and children, sheltered in the Great Hall and Library, In between the trenches where they can send the mounted knights and significantly reduce the numbers of the dead cavalry, and outside the second trench, the no go zone, where the only choice a man has is to fight for his life and take down as many as you can. The fighters there likely will not last long.

Him and Rhaegal fly down to the area between the two trenches, to mount a defense against the wights, in the most important area of the battle. He slides off of the dragon and unsheathes his no longer flaming sword, looks like the White Walkers are not close anymore.

This skirmish will likely be the deciding factor for the battle, the infantrymen of the living, versus the waves of the dead.

_Life. It’s what we fight for isn’t it? I’ll make sure it is worth living for all, well most of these ungrateful people, even if I don’t belong here anymore._

“If we fall here, then we don’t deserve this life we were given, show me, and yourselves that we are more than just walking corpses! Show death why it should fear us instead! I’m far too young to be dying, I tried that once, and it was far too cold, and it tastes more bitter than you’dthink. I’d prefer the warmth of a woman any day!” He said that to instill confidence in the soldiers, but as he looks to the shouting men, they are mostly men of summer, they don’t know cold, they don’t know how to navigate the darkness. They are fighting for glory and honor for their respective houses, but not with the proper respect for life.

_They will learn today._

A crack of sound behind him makes him turn around quickly, and his sword lights momentarily with flame and fades away just as soon as a spear of ice flies past, kicking up ice and dust, and impaling Rickard Karstark, while also pinning him to the stone wall of Winterfell. His curdling screams and the terror on his eyes quiets the voices of the men present. The trail of blood from the spot where the spear hit the Lord of Karhold is bright red and shining against the light of the torches present, striking fear into the men that observed the horrible scene.

More spears get launched at the men, pinning them to the walls of the greatest and largest Northern castle, now the battlefield seems more haunted than it was before.

_Where the fuck is the Night King?_

Now the sound of men being slaughtered and butchered are the only waves of sound being made on the other side of the trench.

_Inside the trench is holding steady since we limited the dead’s mobility, but the outside appears to be a lost cause. Too big of an army to contain…_

Now the snow falls even stronger than before, with the thick flakes accumulating on the ground. They seem to be getting heavier and thicker. He had honestly just noticed that it was snowing, it has been the entire time they had been in the North. The soldier’s footwork is being slowed by a large measure. Both armies’ mobility has taken a nosedive.

Suddenly, a piercing blue light emerges through the trench of oil, distracting the men still slicing at the dead in between the trenches. It’s an Other, he places his hands in the flame and the icy fingers creep through unscathed, but when the hand pokes through, Blackfyre lights with a stream of flame on the Valyrian sword.

_It’s true then, this is the flame that indicates the presence of the White Walkers._

Several of the Others put their hands on the flame and it starts to diminish the outer trench’s burning, now he quickly runs towards the Others and slices their hands off, with the bodies of the Walkers screeching and shattering, but the ice from the destroyed monsters creeps into the oil, turning it greasy and changing the complexion of the oil from a dark, pitch like substance to a sludge of filth. If there were a comparison for what it looks like, he’d have to say that it looks like Janos Slynt. Maybe Arnolf Karstark, or perhaps a amalgam of the two…

Several of the ice-clad monsters repeat the actions of the other White Walkers, and when he kills them, the trench is in bad shape.

The Night King is not a fool, so much he can tell.

The compromised sections of the outer trench now show the horrors that the dead bring.

Ice spiders creeping forth through a gap, Dead giants through another, Dead Shadowcats and Bears invading the subsequent gaps, with the Shadowcats being faster than any Direwolves he has seen.

The real battle starts now…

He raises his open hand, signaling the great offensive of the reserves.

Trebuchets launch pitch weapons, along with Wildfire, that kills a lot of the dead men.

He had seen Robb in the chaos, fighting with Ice, looking every bit a Northman, but he cannot see him at this time.

_Rhaegal is hiding in the clouds, I will certainly not watch him die._

Now the sounds of clanging swords, accompanied by shattering bones, make a melody best described as a tune of life and death.

He can see the entirety of the White Walkers converging on the castle, and it seems difficult to find the Night King. They all look like Others to him.

_Can they change their appearance? He is likely going to try and raise the dead, I have to be the one to stop that from happening._

There is a patch of Others that circle around. Looks like they are making strategic formations, and aiming at the trebuchets and cannons of the castle, they take a few out with their Ice spears, and if they killed the operators of those castle defenses, there are now dead men inside the castle.

Robb comes running towards him, looking just as exhausted as he is.

“The weapons have been taken out by them. We are down to man to man combat. I don’t-“

“In other words, we have them right where we want them.” He cuts off Robb.

Robb just looks at him blankly, and then nods. Dacey Mormont, Harrion Karstark, Galbert Glover, and Clay Cerwyn come forth, providing back up for the two brothers.

He can the White Walker Circle see a ways away, and the Others step over dead men in the second trench to get across.

“Archers!” Robb yells, now ‘Archers, Archers’ makes it’s way to the castle, followed by a black volley of obsidian arrows in the direction of the Others. Dead men form up around them and shield them from their arrows. The volley continues to break down the dead men, but it does not get to the circle of White Walkers.

Now he sees it, the one in the center of the group, The Great Other. He is still, calm, and calculating, and he slowly begins to raise his arms.

He rushes forth with his burning sword, wishing he was as drunk as Thoros, to stop the Great Other, and the White Walkers move into the path, he swings full strength at the Night King, trying to at least knock him off balance, and the sword gets thrown off course after cutting through two Others and it makes contact, slicing through the leader of the dead army’s shoulder and cutting his arm off. The icy blue arm falls to the ground and shatters, but the rest of the Night King is still standing. This momentarily confuses the dead, and they go rampaging to the right side of their body, and this opportunity will not be wasted. An arrow shoots at the Night King but he catches it, with his remaining arm, it was Arya, getting after the Great Other.

_She can have him, I don’t care who kills him._

The Walkers start to form lines to protect their King. He wonders if Westeros would go to these lengths for him, the way that these Others do. He has absolute control over them, so they don’t have a choice. However, Daenerys had a choice and she saved him several times, his mind thinking back to his wife and the mother of his child.

_I really don’t belong in the North anymore._

The dead now start to stand up, while the Night King raises his one hand, and now they have nearly as many dead as they just killed to contend with. The dead quickly try to fill the space between the Walkers and the fighters trying to end their existence.

The Others begin their retreat, and the newly created wights are forming a blockade, allowing them to escape…

He can see a black silhouette approaching the group silently.

It’s Uncle Benjen.

He grabs a dragonglass axe and slices through the retreating walkers, shattering a few of them and he looks for companions to defeat the retreating monsters, and the men present look just as dead as the wights.

_It’s me, it was always me. That’s why I was brought back, and I will make sure Rhaegar never has to face down the horde of dead men._

Coldhands comes forward and throws him up on his mount. The elk’s fur is warm, but Uncle Benjen is as cold as death, and he would know. His sword has stopped burning, however, it seemed to be flickering on and off. Odd, but it’s killing them and that’s what swords are for.

_I don’t pretend to know anything. I just swing the sword._

Uncle Benjen is of few words, other than “here,” and “there,” pointing to threats.

They kill more retreating Walkers and the dead masses try to charge them, one of whom stabs the Elk they are riding.

Both of them tumble to the ground, unsure if they will get back up, but that’s what happens when you are down, you have no where else to go but up.

Hoofbeats now shake the ground and the Wildlings, Umbers, Crannognmen, and Night’s Watch enter the fray and take down some of the Walkers surrounding their King, yet finding themselves unable to kill the Night King. Dragonglass doesn’t have an effect.

Ser Jorah attacks, but the Night King dodges Longclaw and kicks Ser Jorah away, separating him from his Valyrian Steel.

To the south, the dead are being held off by the forces of the castle, but the Wildlings go and slaughter the few that make it past. There are few White Walkers left, and they are still formidable, slicing fighters in half, and dodging strikes easily.

The riders approaching ride past and go to circle back around, leaving himself, Uncle Benjen, and the Night King.

They fight, brutally, It might as well be the dance of the dead considering the persons present. Savage strikes, strong swings, dodges and back and forth brawling.

_Someone is going to die._

He slips on the ground due to the slickness of the ice beneath them, going to one knee, and the Night King swings his curved blade at his neck. Uncle Benjen grabs the icy arm, impeding his death, and he hears cracks of ice.

Now the Great Other shakes Coldhands off and throws him, and before his numb legs can move he gets grabbed by the neck, he feels a squeeze, and his breath stops, before Blackfyre lights aflame once more. He takes the blade and jabs it towards the Night King’s heart and it stops just short of the cold fuckers chest, his nerves are cold, frozen, and twitching. The flame seems to have burned the Night King’s armor, however. The flame dies out, likely from the cold emanating from the king of the dead.

He can see a blackened area where the Great Other’s heart should be.

That’s the target.

“Be the King.” Uncle Benjen says, he’s crawling, and trying to grab the Night King’s ankle.

The Night King steps on Coldhands, cracking the ice that makes up his body, like a child stomping on a toy that won’t work, and pieces of ice have started to break off his undead Uncle. He starts shattering, and he screeches just like the White Walkers did. Now Blackfyre, on target, jabs towards the black heart of this creature before him, at the moment of the blades entry into the heart of this monster, it catches on fire again and shatters the Night King, while also melting the ice that broke off and sending the Great Other to whatever hells await him.

He fades in and out of consciousness from this point, eyes opening and closing, the ground coming up to meet him.

Awake once more, He’s up in the air now, somehow on Rhaegal’s back, heading away from this place. Before he faints completely, he can see white ravens flying throughout Westeros from Oldtown, signaling that it’s now winter.

You don’t fucking say…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new dragon in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know how these things turn out, but enjoy if you can.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

She jolts awake, when a cold winter breeze creeps into her bones.

Pain, the sting of soreness, mixed with the feeling that something just attacked her. She feels weak, and very low on energy.

A small bit of light creeps into her chambers, causing her eyes to open slowly and the hazy vision of dark stone and the two sleeping Maesters in her chambers comes into focus. She can also see Ghost sleeping in the corner, unbothered by anything but danger.

Along with the cold of winter, she could also feel the somber winds of loneliness rustling up sadness in her mind. She has to remind herself that she is not lonely anymore, and suppresses the feelings that she once had in this dark castle. Missandei is alive, Jaehaerys will make it back to her, they don’t need each other, as needs go, but they are better together. Her mother, Rhaella, also was a bright spot in her life, it’s nice to know that she had a parent that was not mad, nor power hungry, it was always too difficult to think of the circumstances around her birth, it made her feel like some sort of stain on the Targaryen dynasty, but her mother told her that she was everything but a stain. That makes her smile, even through the winter making it’s way south and the longer and longer nights, with only small bits of light. She looks around and sees bloody rags, and that reminds her that her belly is much smaller now, and still there is some pain, but not much more than she could bear.

_I am a dragon after all._

Upon realizing the reason for her affliction, a childish wail interrupts her first few thoughts upon waking. It makes her breasts tingle, oddly. She glances over to the basket beside her. A silver-haired, silver-eyed boy makes her heart race when she lifts her head up. A shooting pain comes over her at this, but she will not be denied this beautiful baby boy. She now remembers the torturous labor that she endured, and that she lost some blood, but not enough to end her existence. Ghost starts moving in the corner, and his ruby red eyes open, looking at her and the babe, before being satisfied with what he sees and laying back down.

“How are you up? Or even awake after all of that?” Samwell Tarly suddenly asks, he looks like he just ran the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, he’s panting and lagging so.

“What?” She asks in return, with a shrug.

“You didn’t read the history of dragons, Tarly? I thought you were more astute than that…” Uncle Aemon says.

Samwell just looks on with a confused stare, unable to understand what her old uncle is saying.

“Dragons bonded heal faster than normal men, a dragon with a rider is one flesh, according to the histories…I am quite certain that this dragon has been ridden…” Uncle Aemon points out.

Sam now turns to her and informs her of what she may have missed during the past day, reminding her of the taxing day she had.

“You had a small tear, during the birth, Your Grace, we had to pinch a nerve to stop the bleeding, you should not be up, really. It was almost like you were cursed, and the little dragon in you, the babe had to break through it. Or at least that’s what I would say if I hadn’t been trained by the Citadel, they would just shrug and say it’s an anomaly.” He says as she reaches for Rhaegar, and Samwell puts him in her arms.

_I suppose Jaehaerys is to blame for that, I’ll have to thank him properly…_

She winces with pain, and grits her teeth to speak to Samwell. The pain comes and goes, but she feels great now, as the mother to four dragons, and she will not be deterred by this.

“Neither should you be in my chamber, Tarly…No one asked you here.” She tells the Grand Maester.

He looks down at his feet, with a nervous look of concern. After the babe keeps crying for her to feed him, she pulls our her breast and gives it to her boy while Sam’s attention is diverted.

“I do recall that you were the one that told my husband of his real name…you were brave to do that…however, you secretly hoped that he would do what exactly with that information?” She asks the timid and quivering Maester.

“I had thought you were an evil woman, when you killed my father and brother. I wanted Jon on the throne, and not you.” Sam says quietly, lower than the sound of the baby Rhaegar suckling.

“And yet you decided to help this evil woman get backed into a corner, with no way to to go but through you, and here I thought you were a smart man. I hear that Tormund Giantsbane beat your father to death with his bare hands, funny how I’ve heard nary a conspiracy from you against him. I suppose it’s only bad when I do it.” She practically spits out at the Tarly boy.

He doesn’t respond.

“Now then, do you still consider my King and husband your best friend?” She asks, gauging him for response.

“I do, Your Grace, or at least I still hope so.” He replies.

“What did you do to earn his friendship exactly, that didn’t involve you using him for your own ends?” She asks, while Rhaegar still suckles, getting his fill and looking at her with a look that fills her with joy, and makes her long for her husband, a bit. She looks back at her husband’s false friend, however he is a capable Maester.

Tarly gulps in fear.

“That’s what I thought. You used him, just like everyone else in his life did. You saw what he didn’t, in himself, and you stoked the fires in his heart just enough to where they won’t burn you, but everyone else. Now you have the easiest job, no real danger in your life, and a pathetic existence. You have my gratitude for helping me with the birth of the Crown Prince, but you will never use my Jaehaerys against me again, or you will learn exactly why my house words instill fear in the hearts of men.” She says with a snarl, gritting her teeth.

Tarly leaves the room in a hurry.

“You’ll have the boy pissing his robes,” Uncle Aemon says.

“He needs to learn the value of even the most meager of existences.” She says as she put Rhaegar on her shoulder with a hand on his silver head, to hold him up. She feels nothing but warmth, surrounded by family, protected by dragons, even though it’s snowing still.

Suddenly, Samwell Tarly runs back into the room.

“A raven, Your Grace. A white raven, signifying that it’s now Winter.” The Grand Maester says.

“Oh? I wonder how they can tell, could it be the dark clouds in the sky? Four hours of sunlight a day is a good guess by all measures. Or was it the heavy snows and harsh cold making its way south perhaps…could it even be the marching dead army that they refused to acknowledge, or help with?” Uncle Aemon says.

“There’s more Your Grace, the green dragon is back. You asked to be told right away when he comes here to Dragonstone.” Sam says nervously.

“What is Rhaegal doing?” She asks, with her breath getting heavy, from Samwell’s tone she knows something is amiss. She hadn’t heard him roar, and she knows the difference between each dragon’s roar.

“He is apparently sitting on the cliffs, overlooking the water…brooding from the looks of it, Your Grace, as if he was Jon himself.” Ghost now runs outside quickly, breaking his usual habit of staying with her and the babe.

_Rhaegal...is brooding…?_

She wants to ask more, but her thoughts are broken from the sound of the door breaking open, making the newest dragon that she has birthed, Rhaegar, jump a little.

_What is it now?_

Sandor Clegane, Ser Alliser Thorne, and Podrick Payne carry the King’s unconscious body into the chamber, looking for a place to put him, followed by Ghost barging into the chambers, like the protector that he is. She can’t look away from his body as they clear off a table, knocking the utensils to the ground with a clang that startles little Rhaegar, she looks down and sees his little silver eyes looking at her before inattentively searching through the room.

The men proceed to cut the clothes off of the King to inspect him for injuries. She can see bruises on his chest, neck, and dried blood stains on his beautiful body. She hurts for him, and Rhaegar seems to like the look of his father, glancing over at his father’s dark head of hair, looking slightly silver with the snow sprinkled in his otherwise dark curls.

_I missed this man._

She tries to move from the bed, but her legs are too weak, and it makes her head spin when the blood rushes to her legs.

A few drops of blood drip on the floor under her, after she tries to move and suddenly the men present jump back startled when Jaehaerys’ sword, Blackfyre, lights on fire. When the flame blazes, it brightens up the room drastically. Ser Alliser was handling the blade, inspecting it to make sure it was intact after the battle, and the emanating blaze made him drop it to the ground. She could feel the heat from where she lay, and she knows that that was not a common fire, that was not a fire she had ever seen or experienced, somehow it was different than Ser Beric’s and yet it felt familiar…

_That’s odd, did he make some pact with the Lord of Light?_

The Hound quickly leaves the room, muttering curses under his breath, but a look of fear had washed over him. He is afraid of fire, she remembers.

“Ser Alliser, Podrick, bring him here to me.” She commands.

They look at each other briefly, and then obey their orders, realizing that arguing on this front is an exercise in futility.

They lay the King next to her, bringing the table he is laying on, and setting it beside her, before leaving promptly, likely to wait outside, and she examines his bruised chest and neck with her hands. He shakes violently when she touches certain very dark violet colored spots, and the largest bruise, where the blood is slowly leaking. “Dany...” he says under his breath, not at all conscious or coherent.

_He only has my name on his lips, perhaps I will keep him after all. The babe stirs on her shoulder upon hearing his father’s voice._

The newest Targaryen looks around, barely opening his silver eyes, looking every bit a Targaryen, and she holds him close, silently reminding herself that this child will never face the burdens that her, and also his father Jaehaerys had to face.

Samwell Tarly slowly enters the room, staring into her face…she finally nods to him.

He then rushes over to the King and examines him. Looking over him, and prodding a few areas, she feel his pain to a certain extent. “He’s bruised, in the more sensitive areas of the chest. The bruises are particularly bad because the bones are going to aggravate the weakened areas, breathing will hurt, Your Grace, and there is a chance that his ribs may puncture an organ, if handled improperly.” Sam says.

“Handle him properly then,” she orders, through narrow eyes.

He doesn’t look like he has difficulty breathing, it was more likely exhaustion than anything. He likely hasn’t slept for days, as battles leave little time for sleep.

“What is your plan to help him, Tarly?” She asks the Maester.

“I’ll have to bleed the biggest bruise, on his chest, it will prevent the rib bones from agitating it, and the bad blood will leak out and let it heal, it will be much faster than letting this linger, Your Grace.” The Grand Maester announces.

“Do it,” she says.

The boy has steady hands as he jabs a sharp object directly into the horrible bruise, draining the blood from it, and holding a pan underneath it to capture the leaking blood, Uncle Aemon assists him, cleaning the wound perfectly, and odd thing for a blind man.

The King now roars with pain, just like a dragon, and she thinks she hears Rhaegal doing the same outside, shaking the ground a bit. The baby lets out a childish scream upon hearing the loud noise of the King’s pain, and starts wailing from being startled, a little dragon on her shoulder once more, she thinks fondly.

Seeing the clouds start to turn brighter after Blackfyre lit ablaze, looking at the still burning sword on the ground, the Grand Maester finally chimes in from what he saw, “Oh, that’s ummm…different…there’s no explanation that I can give for that.” Samwell says.

The flame must have been hot, because Tarly is sweating profusely. No one else in the room is fazed at all. “Fire and Blood, Samwell, Fire and Blood.” Uncle Aemon says.

The Grand Maester now starts working on the King more frantically, cleaning up and dressing his wound, putting on salves, and other concoctions. Her love now opens his eyes, staring at the Grand Maester, “Sam…” he says groggily. Now the Maester steps back and slips on a little blood on the floor, banging his head on the floor and knocking out, sweating all the while.

“He always was a rather clumsy boy…” Uncle Aemon says with a slight chuckle. The babe starts making childish sounds with his mouth and the King starts stirring. She glances over to her moving husband, roving her eyes over his body as he shuffles. Rhaegar starts crying a little, with a sound that makes her ears ring. This will take some getting used to.

The King now rubs his grey eyes, before examining the scenery, and smiling at her, dispelling her innermost fears and concerns. Only he could ever do that, and perhaps this babe laying on her chest can now as well.

“Dany…” He says again with another, brighter smile, and he stares at the babe, reaching for his son. She hands him Rhaegar and he kisses the babe on the forehead, and immediately calms down the babe. He holds the newest member of her family, and the two of them have never looked happier, the little Prince silently falling asleep.

_Of course he’d put the babe to sleep that easily._

“Did you win? I had not gotten any ravens.” She asks.

“I killed the Night King myself, we caught their retreat and Uncle Benjen saved me, again...it seems I’m always in need of saving.” He says with great lament.

“Be glad that you worth saving, you sexy bastard turned King, I’d save you. No other man could move my heart the way you do.” She grins and looks to the babe sleeping soundly on his chest,”or break my curses.” She says as he gives her a bright smile.

“Did you have a rough go of it?” The King asks, searching her face.

“I bled, several times last night, I seem to remember a burning sensation as well, I had never felt such a thing. I am quite familiar with fire, as you well know.”

“I am not, my blade would burn, when I was doing battle, it would burn on and off, but it was there when I needed it, it probably was what truly killed the Night King.” He says cryptically.

“The blade, Blackfyre, it burned, when, when I bled today, do you think it was it the birth of the babe?” She asks.

“What are you saying? How can this be?” The King asks in reply.

“Fire and Blood, child, Fire and Blood.” Uncle Aemon says in the background.

They stare at each other’s eyes, in a silver and violet melody, examining the fact that they both should have likely died but this Silver Prince, in addition to the bonds with the dragons, saved them.

Perhaps they do need each other after all.

“Leave it to you to save my ass, not even being there.” The King says, with a grin.

She laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation.

He then stiffens and looks out of the corner of his eyes, “there is something odd though. It was like I was doing what the Night King wanted, and it seemed like he was just making a distraction. He wasn’t full on assaulting like when we fought the army of the dead before.”

“A distraction, for what? Didn’t he want Bran?” She quizzes.

“Aye, but he also wants to destroy the world of men and its memory.” He says.

“What else could be his target if he wanted you to look towards the North?” She says to heavy breathing at the implication that this is not over.

“Almost all the armies marched North, meaning the dead could be anywhere, but where else could he go that would erase memories of the world of men, unless…” Jaehaerys starts rubbing his chin in thought, then he comes up with the idea, “If I wanted to erase men, I could also go to…”

“The Citadel…” Uncle Aemon says, as a cold breeze makes the lot of them uneasy.

“I had the feeling that something was off, he knew he couldn’t get to Bran, so he went for the next best thing, but not only that, he would have a brand new army, with no one having Dragonglass, since they didn’t believe what they saw anyway amongst the Maesters. I killed the Night King, I know it, but I didn’t see the dead fall when I killed the Great Other. He is learning indeed, this is probably what happened in the first Long Night. They missed some of the Others. Not only that, but it will set us back a generation of Maesters and healing techniques.” The King says, with horror laced into his voice.

“If what you say is true, then we only have one recourse, you understand that right?” She asks him.

He looks away from her, and finally answers, “Aye.”

They say the only thing they could do in this situation together, in tandem, “We’ll have to burn the entire Citadel to the ground.”

“Fire and Blood, dragons, Fire and Blood.” Uncle Aemon says, as the days events take their toll on them, and they fall asleep, the three heads of the dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that worked out. Thanks for reading.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya deals with the aftermath in the North. Qyburn's plan is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I deleted the chapter by mistake.

Arya Stark

After her brother, the King, flew away, the battle should have been over. He killed the Night King, so they all thought, but the dead did not all fall. A lot of them did, but that was when the men started to relax, and started to drink and cheer.

It was then that the few dead that remained, launched a massive counter offensive, in the hour of the wolf, no less. It was her instincts, and Nymeria, that saved her. She jolted awake to her direwolf tearing dead men apart, as they had finally slept after the long battle. Their war strategy was sound, thanks to Robb, but the dead have somehow learned to adapt. Bad tidings, certainly, not helped at all by the tremendously heavy snows falling, and the very little sunlight. Her Valyrian Steel dagger, along with the dragonglass staff that Gendry made, got put to much use today.

Now it’s a wonder if the same thing happened in other castles. They are not as prepared as Winterfell, so there may be some castles that were wiped out by the army of the dead.

After they light the torches, burning the dead of the battle, they realize that the sun hasn’t risen in the slightest, there are still only four hours of daylight before the night takes over. Along with the thick, heavy snows, the visibility is nearly zero.

It truly is winter, and she feels disappointed in herself now, that she shunned the entire south when it was time to fight the previous war against the dead, and yet the northerners did nothing to help her, she got more help from the Brotherhood without Banners, Gendry, and even Yoren, a man of the Night’s Watch, even the bloody Hound. Yet she told Jon that she didn’t want allies, having in mind the same allies that saved her life and the lives of those around her. Now she can tell that it was folly on her part to pretend that they don’t need anyone, and that she could do it all herself, especially since they feel crippled now that they cannot seem to get ravens from the south. Dumb decisions always have a way of coming back to bite you. All of the pretending to not care about the south that she did, and now look at her, worrying about what houses and loyalties are affected by this invasion.

As Jon would say, you’re only stupid if you don’t learn from your mistakes. Take the opportunity, and learn what you need to make correction, that requires a bit of self awareness, and that in and of itself is a difficult thing to realize. This is why she trained to truly ‘see’ and not just ‘look.’

She examines the exterior of the castle, checking for more corpses and any movement whatsoever, from invading forces. After finding none, she then slips back inside Winterfell. No one present is happy. Looks like they are starting to prepare in the Great Hall.

Mother is scared out of her wit, shaking and checking Robb’s minor injuries. He shrugs her off before going to sit at the head table.

Rickon seems to be in a world of his own, conversing with little Lyanna Mormont and following her around a little, the strong young woman and her little brother are becoming fast friends. He seems happy to not be Lord of Winterfell now that Robb is back, and he still wears his black fur coat and spiked helmet, like a little warrior, and it brings smile to her face. Still as stubborn as ever, and demanding sweets as he always did.

The only thing is, where is Sansa? She would want to be involved in these councils, surely, she lives for these boring meetings. No time for worrying about that now. She lives, and that’s about the extent of her concern.

Robb starts the meeting. “My Lords, we made it through. My brother told us about the dead army, but it was all too real when we experienced it. We had the might of the North, along with the Riverlands, the Vale, The Reach, Dorne, and the Westerlands, along with the Night’s Watch and the Wildlings. Never did I think I’d say those words.” Robb says as the men present, mainly officers, bang their mugs on the table. “No Ravens have came or gone since this battle, so we know nothing of the south.” He looks around sees the men present uneasy, and a sense of tension and turbulence is present, especially since there is little light. “The only hope we have is that the dead are all just dead, and that we don’t have to fight anymore. Thank you all for defending the living, as well as the North.” Robb says with large levels of uncertainty.

“Aye,” the Lords present say.

They each give counts of the men that were lost in this battle, and she doesn’t really pay attention to the numbers, it’s all boring, but she notes each man and whether they look truly trustworthy, they surprisingly do, even Addam Marbrand, the Lannister man that was previously under Tywin’s thumb. Jeor Mormont, Anders Yronwood, Lyn Corbray, Garlan Tyrell, Karsi of the Wildlings, and her Uncle the Blackfish are the officers that give their respective numbers to Robb.

“Now, as we planned when the King first told us about this, the protocols are in effect. Travel in groups, preferably one from each respective land, and protect yourselves, look after one another, as my father used to say.” The Lord of Winterfell says. The Lords voice their approval.

The halls to the great hall open, and two guards step forward, followed by Talisa Stark and the babe on her arm. Robb stands up quickly, and doesn’t turn around to look and see if the other lords followed suit. He rushes over to his wife and son and embrace them. “I never sent word that it was safe,” Robb says to Talisa.

“If being in a large castle, surrounded by all the armies of the Seven Kingdoms is not safe, where is?” She responds with determination. Robb just nods and hugs her.

“You got you a southern lad there, lets see him, Stark.” Greatjon Umber says.

He holds the babe out for all to see, with the babe looking around the room, staring at faces he doesn’t know.

The Great Hall is silent, as the Northmen, as well as the Lords from every region look over the babe, half Stark, half Essosi. The Lords don’t notice, but Robb has his hand on Ice, ready to handle anyone that says a bad thing about his son.

Greatjon Umber gets up, and walks over to Robb tiredly, looking into the babes face, his little blue eyes innocently looking at the hulking Lord of the Last Hearth.

“Welcome To the North, Ned Stark, the Wolf of the South.” Greatjon Umber says with a booming exclamation.

“The Wolf of the South!” The Northmen start chanting. Robb and Arya relax, and take their hands off of their weapons, nodding to each other with a smile.

“Come on lads, lets go check up on our numbers of fighting men. I got the feeling we will need to know what we are up against. This Winter is not over, by a long shot.” Greatjon Umber says, but he does give the Wildlings a nasty look.

“That’s all for now, my Lords.” Robb says, and the men get up and leave the great hall.

“We must speak, all of us, as a family. Arya, go get Sansa. Mother, go get Bran, meet back here in an hour. We must decide how to proceed together since we cannot speak to Jon. You have your orders, go now.” Robb says.

She heads for Sansa’s chambers and hears giggling and whispering. She creeps in the door and finds Sansa fondling and kissing Theon, with Theon backing away. She just observes. “Lady Sansa, you need to stop this, I don’t think we should do this, you are betrothed.” Theon says, swatting Sansa’s hands away.

“I can do whatever I please, Theon, I am the King’s sister. No one can punish me.” Sansa replies.

“That’s what I thought when I was the ‘Prince’ of the iron islands, Lady Sansa. Please, at least consider what you are doing.” Theon says apprehensively.

“I have considered what I’m doing. If we were to have a bastard, I could have him legitimatized by Jon and we could claim the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. If Robb goes back to the capital, we could make a play for the North together since Bran won’t rule and Rickon’s a child. Don’t think I’m just an idiot.” Sansa tells Theon.

“No, but you are a bitch.” Arya announces to them.

They jump up and turn around to look at her. Both are afraid. She hates the fact that Theon is still afraid as a little beaten dog, but it’s better than him being dead.

“Come along, Theon, Sansa.” Arya says.

“No.” Sansa says defiantly.

“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” She tells her sister with a smile.

She grabs a handful of red hair and drags her through the halls of Winterfell, albeit not for the first time.

No one says anything to them on the trek through the castle. Everyone stopped questioning Arya a long time ago.

They are the first to make it to the Great Hall, and she Chooses this time to try to reason with her sister.

“Sansa, I am the one defending you, you keep this shit up and you’ll be a Septa. I’m trying to help you, but you need to help yourself. Keep in mind that the last time I told someone this I was about to slit their throat. You are no one, you are nothing. I used to be so proud of you, and your strength, but you are now weak. Even worse for you is that you are powerless. Does the need for power affect you so, that you behave this idiotically? You need to watch yourself. Daenerys told me to keep an eye on you, and I never thought she would be this right. All the time you spent convincing me that everyone else is an enemy, what have you done? Have you done anything, at all, your clothes are new and untarnished, meaning you haven’t seen a battlefield. You haven’t given any war strategies, haven’t killed anyone, you need to go to the Twins, and rule the castle, and even that is more power than you should have.” She lays into Sansa, that just looks apoplectic at the harshness that she put on her.

Sansa tries to retaliate, and return her anger at her little sister for scolding her, but now Rickon walks in the Great Hall, followed by Shaggy and Osha, and then Gendry, seeking out and finding her, Bran, being wheeled in by mother and Summer follows. All together, Robb and Talisa, with little Ned come in and catch everyone’s attention, along with Grey Wind. Then, she notices Theon sneak in behind everyone. Mother is looking at her and Sansa with a knowing expression, she always knows when they are fighting. “What is the problem with you two?” she says, arms folded and ready for scolding.

“What?” She asks with a sly smile, trying to throw her mother off. Robb jerks his head towards her, and she looks around, having forgotten that she had Sansa’s hair wrapped in her hands. She lets it go, and Sansa moves away slightly. “Oh, that, we were just arguing about who gets to hold the babe first.” Sansa says, as she goes over to play with the laughing babe, while the wolves lick his feet, tickling him to no end.

“Liar.” Rickon says, making Sansa narrow her eyes, and Theon looking at his feet.

“Why is he here?” Rickon asks, pointing to Theon.

“Because there is something that he needs to know, and he’s not the same Theon anymore, Rickon.” Bran replies. Shaggy is now creeping up on Theon, intimidating the Greyjoy into speechlessness.

“Fine.” Rickon says, listening to Bran, in what seems like the first time for the stubborn little boy, but they have had quite the relationship, now closer than ever.

Her nephew’s tiny chuckles at the wolves seems to lighten the mood of all those present. The laugh of the little one permeates the room, and all is right in the world, even though it really isn’t.

The group lets their nervousness set in, especially Robb, they haven’t seen much of sunlight in about a fortnight, and he has a new child and the North to worry about.

“Bran, what can you tell us?” Robb asks nervously. Bran looks around the room and tries to smile, but there is nothing that can hide his true expression, that of horror.

“He outmaneuvered us. We went North and he went South, he had to have, I can’t see how or why, but he made moves to get south. There is a snowstorm at the Citadel, that I can’t see. Another full army of dead men, most likely, not only that, but now the Maesters are in short supply, all by taking one town. I must go, and I must rebuild the Citadel. Jon and Daenerys will have to burn it, to stop the dead from spreading. The closest armies are the leftover Wildlings from the Reach, and the Golden Company stationed at Harrenhal. The Night King will find a way to let us know when he’s taken the Citadel. That’s what he does, and then we will end him.”

“How will we know what this signal from the Night King is?” Robb asks, holding his family close.

“You’ll know, it will be unmistakable.” Bran says, and takes the air out of the room.

A horn blast stops them short and she and Robb look at each other and nod, before going to the ramparts of Winterfell to see what’s happened. On the way they see Maester Wolkan shaking uncontrollably and afraid, and the men on the ramparts stunned into silence.

Looking down, they see a horse, trotting to a stop and on the mount there’s a man in robes with chain links all over the robes. A Maester, no doubt. Looking closer at the body, the Maester is missing his head, however, and the head that should be on his shoulders is in his lap, being held by his cold, dead hands. The horse shakes the body off and runs away, sending the body and head tumbling to the ground. The body is frozen, and stiff, and the head rolls away upon the impact with the ground.

Besides the ones already found at a castle, there are likely no more Maesters to be found. This will cripple Westeros for a generation, and the only thing that can recover this is Bran now. Good thing he’s surrounded by all the fighting men one could ask for.

This is what Winter is Coming really means.

Qyburn

No one notices the little things, and that’s how he makes his mark. At the Wall, no one asks too many questions about your past, and that’s all for the better.

He asked the Lord Commander to leave for supplies, and no one questioned him. It all started when he overheard some of the men taking about a certain Craster, and what happened to his baby boys, they were all given to the Great Other, and in return the dead did not harm them. That’s fascinating to man of science.

He read the texts, in the Maester’s library, and he found some interesting theories. Surely ice preserves a dead body, and there is lots of ice beyond the Wall, but what makes the dead move, is it magic, or is it some kind of power that no one understands? He became obsessed with these hidden mysteries. As more stories of the dead popped up, the less someone questioned his research. He was determined to find the meaning behind this, and no one seemed to notice. He went to the Mole’s Town brothel, and there were several baskets of unwanted babes there, so he stole them, and no one noticed that either.

With the Wildlings no longer beyond the Wall, there were much fewer injuries to treat, and so he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

Looks like no one second guesses a Maester at the Wall.

All of the research he did led him up to the realization that the leader of the dead is an intelligent life. Some have called him the Night King, another name is the Great Other. He has to be at least intelligent enough to spread whatever it is that he is to the children. His soldiers then follow orders uniformly and without question.

Their blue eyes are rooted in some sort of ice magic, that freezes and preserves the body. It’s fascinated the disgraced former Maester.

He ran out of material to read up on, examining the dead bodies. So he decided to send men to Oldtown, to find more information on the Long Night. The battle made the entire sky dark beyond the wall, and he’s never seen anything like it. He started looking into the deeper materials of the Long Night, by getting information from the Citadel, and they couldn’t deny him. You are absolved when you go to the Wall. Now he can learn all that he needs to complete his information.

It seems that the dead want to wipe out all knowledge in the world, and that there is knowledge, stored in the Weirwood trees somehow, and there’s a person that can harness this information and wield it when needed, aided by the Children of the Forest. Strange business, even by his standards.

From what he overheard from the men on the Wall, the boy lived beyond the Wall without being killed by the dead for a long time, so there must have been another source of magic, or just something that stops the ice that preserves their body, an unnatural, severely hardened ice.

He finally started to realize how all of this could go wrong, since erasing the knowledge of the world would render men powerless, which is no good unless he has something to live for. Siding with the dead against the living is madness, but he can at least use them to his own ends.

Suddenly, he realizes his purpose, and that’s getting back at those that humiliated him. Another means by which to erase the world’s knowledge would be the Citadel, but how will he get them south?

Reading further upon the various spells that have existed, he can use one of them to skew their appearance, and make them look like normal men, or something else.

After the Night’s Watch vacated the Wall during the battle, he stayed behind and opened the gates, leaving a few baby boys there. He noticed that the Night King came to retrieve them himself, and turned their eyes blue when the his icy hands touched them.

They also saw him as they walked by, looking at him with more than just eyes, and yet left him alone.

“You should go to the Citadel,” he tells the Night King. The Night King just stares at him, as do the other White Walkers and the dead men.

“Winterfell has all the armies of Westeros there, you wouldn’t defeat them if you had a million fighting men, but the Citadel holds all the written memories of men, wipe them out and you will set them back several thousand years.” He informs the Night King, staring at him with no expression whatsoever.

The Night King now touches a White Walker on the chest, and the Other now looks just like the Night King, sharing his appearance and likely his power.

Another thing that fascinated him.

The dead now split off into two groups. A large one, made up of dead men, and White Walkers, along with the one that looks like the Night King, and then the Night King himself, that goes towards the Citadel, along with about twenty Others.

Now he sees what they are doing, they are smarter than he ever imagined they would be. They pass through the gates on the Wall, heading South, and don’t look at him a second time. The White Walkers bring with them a snow storm, and are much more difficult to see, so they can march south unabated.

Of course he’s a man of science, but it would be unlike him to have a contingency plan, and his only goal was to destroy the Citadel. He snuck all the Wildfire that he had stolen from the Wall and sent it to the Citadel for ‘study.’ They always thought they were the smartest people around and they acted like it. The High Lords of Westeros trust their word, and they are skeptical of even the most basic truths. It’s time for some new knowledge in Westeros, and that brings a smile to his face, even though he knows he likely won’t survive this ordeal.

During his studies of the dead body, he learned that something in the Wildfire burns all traces of magic away, and it kills the dead by burning the power that moves them. If it gets too much, he’ll have to test the validity of that theory. While sneaking Wildfire into the Citadel, and all over Oldtown, he plays the part of a budding acolyte and attends the meeting of Maesters, he’d give them one last chance before he ends them.

“You all have heard about the dead army, yes? Well we do have a precedent, there was previously a record of a Long Night, with similar circumstances to the one we face, thousands of years ago. Improbable and unlikely, but not impossible.” Archmaester Pylos says.

“Reports from Northerners, frozen as all get out, no one wants to listen to them.” A Maester says.

“The Wildlings of the reach say the same.” Another Maester says.

Yet another Maester scoffs, “even the new King has them believing that nonsense, even drove the prices of obsidian, dragonglass through the roof at the Iron Bank, folly if you ask me.”

“You think all of these people would lie, because you don’t want to believe all the reports? What good are reports then, Maesters?” Qyburn says. The group laughs at him while he spreads Wlidfire around the room, unnoticed.

“They didn’t come from us.” The Archmaester says.

If he were capable of such things, he would pity them.

The water in the room they are in starts to freeze, cups of water, along with glass beakers that shatter when they freeze. The Maesters don’t play close attention to this, but the Archmaester is quite concerned.

“Send out there white ravens, we could at least do that.” Archmaester Ebrose says.

The other Maesters start shuffling, a few of them shuddering in the cold. “Are you certain it’s Winter, Archmaester, how can you tell?” A Maester asks.

The Archmaester now pulls out a cup and turns it upside down, to no effect. That stare at Ebrose questioningly, and he hits the bottom of the cup a few times, finally a cylinder of ice falls out and shatters on the stone floor, breaking into pieces.

The room gets silent.

“Pardon me Maesters, I want you to know that I bear you no ill will, I only intended to show you that you were wrong.” He tells them all, as a gust of frozen wind blows through the room, accompanied by ice and snow.

“The problem with proud men is that they fancy themselves the King of the known world, but what happens to those types of men is that they keep their world as small as possible. When that happens, anything that could be considered too big for their small world is immediately dismissed as nothing. I assure you that this is folly, and you missed the things that were right before your faces. Had you simply opened your minds a little, you would not be in this situation, but here we are, you will be wiped out.” He tells the Maesters staring at him blankly.

They start laughing at him, they can’t see past their own noses, too bad for them. He starts to head towards the locked door and there’s frantic banging on the doors, along with screaming. The people are trying to get in.

It’s too late however, the Maesters have no answers for you.

Archmaester Ebrose now eyes him with a serious look. “Why would you do this? Qyburn, this has your work written all over it.”

“Why? Never ask why. You could never know why anyone does anything, I hardly know why myself, but I do know that you should have known something, you had evidence, you had reports, and because you chose to listen to only what you thought of as ‘reality,’ you will lose out.” He says as the screams behind the doors get louder and more horrific. It goes quiet behind the doors now, and they are all staring at the doors to see what terror will come forth.

Suddenly blood starts running under the door, increasing the tension tenfold. He lights a match, and prepares to exterminate the Citadel and the dead, aiming for the green trail that he had left when he was ‘cleaning’ as an acolyte. He throws the match down as the doors burst open, and the cold winds blow the fire out of the match before it can ignite. The dead come hoarding in the room now and no longer can be denied by the Maesters.

They are probably still denying this event, right up until the point where the dead tear them apart.

The Archmaester now sticks a knife in Qyburn’s heart, before the Maester is consumed by the dead, and Qyburn’s life fades, while the cold winds blow and frost settles over the stone of the citadel. The blood pumps from his heart and just adds to the layers of blood already present. No one will miss him, but at least he accomplished his goal.

He falls to the ground, bleeding and dying, and he can’t say that he really has any regrets, he did what he set out to do, the aftermath is no longer his problem. He now has the very last smile on his face, he got one over on the ‘smartest’ men in Westeros.

That’s what they get for not paying attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great day, and thanks for reading.


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yara faces Winter in Oldtown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is safe out there.

Yara Greyjoy

Reaving and looting, pillaging and plundering, is their way, the way of the Ironborn. Her father commanded her to take Oldtown, and she still obeys his orders, he is still the Lord of the Iron Islands, after all. ‘King’ if you ask him, but no one will kneel to Balon Greyjoy.

_Why is it so damned cold on the sea? How in the hells did Theon stand the North if it’s anything like this?_

She is in the third ship of the fleet, the two in front are commanded by her father and Victarion, sailing side by side, the only dumbasses in her way if she was to be the ‘Queen’ of the Iron Islands.

At least they are not quite as bad as Euron, she was thrilled when she heard of his death, he was the drowned God indeed, as a smirk emerges on her face at the thought of her dead and gone, and worthless uncle.

The first two ships off of the coast ride towards the shores of Oldtown, as the captains appear to be wailing and pacing frantically, giving orders that she doesn’t understand. _A full stop, then a complete turn around, with ships behind you? What kind of foolish orders are those?_ The men are still running around and they look afraid of whatever it is that they are seeing.

_What in the hells is out there?_

The ships turn more quickly than she ever thought possible, and the head ship of the Iron fleet starts wobbling uncontrollably, and teetering. Never has she seen an Iron fleet ship threaten to fall over with no damage, those ships are some of the best ever crafted.

Now the heavy snow in the immediate area starts making the scene blurred and cold, her breath is visible flowing from her mouth, and the waves of the sea are moving slowly, seemingly flowing away from Oldtown. _What is this strange weather? It hardly snows this far south._

Yara begins to remember the Kings coronation, and the warning that he gave about the dead.

‘They come with the frozen mist, and the cold starts to take form in your path, even the air you breathe feels like it’s dead.’

_Oh, shit._

‘You can’t see anything ahead of you, and it feels like fear personified, if you don’t have the proper weapons, it will turn the most hardened fighters into wailing bitches, when you see what lies behind the heaviest snows you will ever experience, and the cold that will freeze even your blood.’

She starts checking her pockets, to see if she has even the slightest bit of Dragonglass now, because it’s the most valuable thing in the known world, at this very moment. She searches through the weapons caches, frantically, heart racing, wondering if any of these Ironborn took the King seriously.

She hates the fact that the Ironborn probably didn’t listen, since they followed her father into a failed rebellion and still supported him after he was forced to bend and Theon went to Winterfell. The stupid men that she calls family, although she has to wonder if she’s any better, since she does follow her father as well. That’s what she’s supposed to do, follow this stupid Greyjoy, her own father, into the bowels of hell, quite literally, now she must add.

No Dragonglass to be found. _Fuck._ _Is there none on any of the Iron fleet’s ships?_ They are probably all dead, if they did not heed the warning from the King. No one ever took this former bastard seriously, and he tried to save even them.

The turbulence on the sea is unsettling, because they are so close to land, and she sees the two ships heading the charge hit solid ground somehow sheets of thick ice underneath them, and suddenly they fall over slowly teetering over and spilling the men and cargo on onto the solid ice, sending the normally stoic soldiers in a frenzy of screaming and mewling, as they look towards the city with a look of horror and fear, then they disappear behind the thick fog and mist of the cold.

She doesn’t want to know what they are seeing, but there is little choice in the matter, since the winds have a hold of the sails, and they are scared for their lives, with their teeth chattering and shivering in the blistering cold temperatures.

_I’m going to Essos, I swear it, if I survive this shit show. I’m not going to go out without a fight._

The lone female Greyjoy decides to gear up and fight. Gearing up with a sword and axe, as well as bow and arrow, she checks each weapon’s sharpness, inspecting for anything that will help her and save her life. Before setting sail, she did get a letter from Theon, that she hadn’t read yet, and she decides to tuck it in her pocket, perhaps she’ll finally get to hear from her little brother, in the case that death decides to come for her.

A loud boom and the creaking of wood on the ship frightens the rest of the crew of her ship, and she starts to head to the deck, but one of her men run in quickly and stop her from going out there.

She doesn’t like the look on his face in the slightest. She takes a couple of deep breaths, that also fills her lungs with cold air, one of the most uncomfortable feelings that she has ever experienced.

The ship starts wobbling, creaking and leaning as if the captain is drunk, and now everyone’s heart nearly jumps out of their throats as the ship falls over, making the usually stoic and quiet crew scream in fear and panic upon realization that their lives are probably about to be forfeit.

The sounds outside are worse than the fear that has them paralyzed. Curdling screams, gasps and flesh tearing, along with what sounds like animal growls and roars in the distance, towards the icy, frozen city of Oldtown.

Outside, it gets extremely quiet, and somehow that appears to be worse than the slaughter that they heard before.

The few of them left slowly creep out of the ship, crawling out of the dilapidated wooden structure, with no hope of returning to the sea, with the ice all around and the sheer lack of sight from the snowstorm.

Once they get out, of the fallen ship, the sight is worse that they thought, but it’s what they don’t see that truly shocks them.

Blood, everywhere, strewn all over the solid ice, literally painting the town red.

No bodies to be found however, which means that the King had told them right. The few Ironborn left now are the only fighters to try and take on an enemy that they don’t know. No where to go but forward now, and march to their deaths.

“What is dead may never die!” She yells out, with a trembling voice.

“What is dead may never die!” The few of her men left return.

If only they believed what they were saying.

She calls for a torch and a light, and her loyal men provide her with one. After striking the flint, and lighting the torch, it blows out after just a few seconds. Whatever confidence they may have had with the rate of survival on this mission is now completely gone, it faded with the torch that just went out. It was the last of the flint…

“No where to go now, but towards…the city…” she says, still trembling with fear. She needs to be the strong one for her people, but she has no idea how to do such a thing.

_What can a person do in this situation?_

Walking towards the frozen city of Oldtown, quietly and trying to find a way around this city, where supposedly all the knowledge of Westeros is stored. Trying to find anyone or anything that will help them, they stumble upon a desolate land, not all reassured by the foot steps that are tracking in the same direction that they are heading.

Hundreds of footsteps, possibly thousands…

No horses, no food, no people are here to be found, just ice and footsteps, tracks and blood before her.

Nothing can be heard either, other than her head and heartbeat pounding with adrenaline. As cold as death, and as quiet. She wants to send a scout, but it is not a good idea to split up, although they are easier to spot all together. None of them understand this kind of enemy either, and the whole time that she heard about this army of the dead she rolled her eyes and stopped listening like a child, missing some things that may save her life.

_Come to think of it, didn’t Theon know something about these dead men?_ She reaches for the letter that he gave her, hoping for some last hope to survive.

Before she can get her hand in her pocket she hears a man spilling his guts on the ice. She turns around quickly and sees an ice spear shoved through one of her men, spilling his blood all over the rest of them, and they all panic and run as fast as they can, to somewhere that is not here. A White Walker had snuck up on them, not making a sound, and further freezing their already cold running blood.

She runs, not knowing where she is going, unable to see, and unable to shake those cold blue eyes, trying to stay alive, although it’s not looking good on that front.

Labored breathing making her chest hurt with cold air, she decides she’s not going out without a fight. She is alone now, just waiting for the jaws of death to come and claim her. She sheds a tear for her fallen comrade, and it freezes on her face, showing her just what kind of hells she is in after all.

She was just following her father’s orders wasn’t she? As she walks into a building that looks like it has loot, she hopes that whoever lived here would have been prepared. She rummages through the building, searching frantically for dragonglass, the only thing that will kill these dead fuckers.

The only thing that she finds is a few silver stags and gold dragons, meaningless things now. That’s what she came for, gold and spoils, and now it’s useless to her. Funny how the value of things changes when your life is on the line.

This building is empty. The rest of the buildings are in the eye of the storm, where she has no desire to go. Perhaps the best thing to do is just wait it out, don’t approach. No food to be had, however, so this waiting approach won’t last long.

A voice distracts her from her thoughts. “Dead, dead, dead!” She hears in the form of a talking raven.

She starts to question her sanity. Growls and snarls bring her back to the present. The footsteps sound like there is about twenty dead men, right in front of where she is, snow falling heavily and blocking any sight she would have before her. Dead men are starting to swarm, looking around for anything that lives or moves. Never did she know she could be this afraid. It’s not just death, but also the fact that her body would rise and gain those horrible blue eyes, following orders mindlessly to the shriek of those ice monsters.

“Brother.” The raven says to her, as if it knew her.

_Brother? Isn’t he in Winterfell?_

“Brother!” The raven says again.

What is this raven prattling on about? The dead keep converging on the sound of the wailing bird. She is scared that she will soon be dead or worse, and that she can’t think straight and she’s losing her mind. A damned talking bird is the least of her concerns, but she slowly unsheathes her sword as the blue eyes start piling up, looking around for something to eat, namely her.

“Brother!” The raven says a third time. The sound keeps attracting the dead, and it seems like a bad dream now. The raven wants her dead. It keeps making noise and bring more things that she cannot kill.

Finally the raven flies towards her, bringing a swarm of dead men. It flies towards her hip, and pokes her, right where she put Theon’s letter.

Might as well read it, not too much time in her life left. Let’s see what little brother had to say to her before she gets eaten alive and brought back to do the same to others.

Opening the letter from Theon as the dead get closer, she reads it while hiding under a flpped over table. Growls and jaws clamping getting closer and closer to her position.

**It reads:**

**Dear Yara,**

**I know that I haven’t really been your brother, and I want to make that up to you. I know that father will have you do something stupid, because that’s what he does. Youwill follow these orders because you are a true Ironborn. Don’t die for him on a stupid mission, especially when the dead are starting to make their move. Underestimating them will be your death, and that’s exactly what following Balon Greyjoy will lead you to. But you are my sister, so I will always look out for you, I made a new pocket in your favorite armor. I placed a couple of dragonglass weapons in there, a dagger and a small axe. What is dead may never die, but that only applies to us. Remember this, big sister, no matter where you are, and how many miles separate us, I’ll be there, in your heart, and in your mind, because you’re a stubborn ol’ bitch. But that means you’re too stubborn to let death claim you either. As you would say to me, get your sorry ass up, and make them earn your life.**

**Theon Greyjoy**

She reads the letter with more tears streaming down her face, and they still are freezing. She’s cold as fuck, but she’s not dead yet. She clasps off her armor, leaving a small tunic that is about frozen solid, banging her numb and frozen hands on the armor, looking for the inside pocket, avoiding the grabs of the dead men in front of her. She finds it in between the chainmail and the kraken armor. She takes out the black-bladed, small axe and dagger just as soon as the dead start rushing her. Her blood starts pumping now, and she kills the lot of them. Slashing them with two weapons, cutting them down with fierce strikes that restores feeling to her frozen hands, and more importantly, her will to live.

She creates a warpath of dead bodies, running through them to get to the Citadel. Nobody will fuck with Yara Greyjoy today, least of all a dead man. She works her way towards the Citadel, hoping for a horse to take to the Reach, but none found so far. The dead are alert to her position and keep chasing her down, but they all get dragonglass to the skull.

She wishes they could feel these blades that she’s using to slaughter them, she would enjoy this more. This feels empty however, and she’s just clinging on to life pathetically.

Still better than being dead.

A flock of ravens start flying around her, cawing and swooping through the icy temperatures. She wants to fall down and just give up, but she’s just a stubborn as Theon said she is.

The ravens are flowing towards the Citadel, with the structure just barely showing through the snowstorm, not reassuring her in the slightest. Not many options left, but to look for something.

The Ravens seem to be forming a path towards the eye of this terrible storm. They are grouped together and the black wings disappear into the mist, flying in formation.

They suddenly break apart, sending the birds’ squawks in different directions all over Oldtown.

One of them flies to her and lands on her shoulder, which she oddly doesn’t mind. The Raven’s eyes go back and forth between black and white, then it nods it’s head to her, towards the east side of of the Citadel. “Live! Queen!” The Raven says.

So maybe these birds are smarter than she thought, and they are guiding her. Why her? Why does she get the Raven to guide her? No one else is alive, why her? Does she dare to ask the bird questions?

“Can you find me a horse?” She asks the Raven. The Ravens eyes flash white and the bird looks like it nodded to her. Talking to a damned bird. Better than losing her mind to be the thrall of an Other, unless this is not real at all.

The bird flies off of her shoulder, and goes towards another raven, leaving her alone again. The black birds that she sees sporadically are the only things that she can see at all. Her chest still hurts when she breathes, and the cold is overwhelming. Even her face is numb now. She sits down in the snow, powdery and frosty, putting her arms around her knees and rocking back and forth to try and build the heat in her body.

She knows nothing about surviving in winter. At least she has a little brother that looks out for her. That and a flock of ravens apparently. Rocking back and forth, still her shivering, her concentration is broken by the sight of a raven, flying towards her and circling around her head.

“Ready!” The raven says.

_Ready? For what?_ Oh, that’s right, she asked the raven for a horse. She jumps up, weapons in hand, and she follows the raven to only the gods know where. The little black bird is her only friend right about now, and the only thing helping her to keep her sanity.

_I didn’t believe the dead men were real, but they clearly are. What’s so strange about a talking bird?_

Doesn’t seem that the bird can read her thoughts though, so that’s something. The need for heat is starting to take its toll on her though, and the icy winds are relentlessly beating on her, and she’d give about anything for a torch, an open flame, or a hearth.

The high flying raven now lowers down to her and flies ahead, causing her to run along quickly.

“Here.” The raven says. She looks around and only sees swirling wind. Heading closer and closer into the storm she sees a wooden fence, broken and ripped apart, along with hooves and blood. Not what she wanted to see.

“Do I need to go further?” She asks the raven with a fearful gaze.

The raven just nods.

_Damn this bird._

She slowly treks forward, creeping towards the direction indicated by the raven and she spots a frozen, dead head, that shocks her almost out of her skin. It’s the head of Dagmer Cleftjaw, her father’s loyal man. It was only recently that he was killed, so it’s telling that his body is already frozen. That sums up how she feels well.

She sees more body parts strewn about in odd patterns, spirals, as she looks more closely. Another pattern that she can’t quite describe is there. An oval with three legs underneath? The patterns look like a part of some ritual that she wants no parts of, and the raven still guides her ever forward, and she stops when she sees the strangest thing that she ever saw, freezing her in her tracks, so to speak.

The sight is even more horrifying than she imagined, and she can’t move at all, out of fear, or whatever it is that stops her from moving.

There are dead bodies all around the Citadel, some standing, some kneeling, some laying on the ground, some pinned to the wall of the brick buildings, with ice weapons sticking through them. She spots her father, headless and frozen, with his head in his hands in a strange pose that makes her colder than she was before. Looking around she sees all the familiar faces in the same poses, headless and posing with their removed heads as if they were maidens looking for a lord or prince. She sees the rest of the Ironborn, along with the Masters of the Citadel, all with Kraken armor and chains respectively, frozen and headless.

No one was around to know that she just pissed herself.

She felt the warm feeling down her leg that felt quite good considering, and it was not bothersome, before it turned cold and freezing, still frozen with fear and unable to move, a lick to her face makes her slightly aware of her surroundings, as a raven flies to her, and she can finally hear again after shaking off some of her fear. She turns slowly, realizing how creepy it is, that there’s a tongue up her face, when she didn’t ask for it this time. It’s a brown horse, saddled and has carrots in his saddle bag. She doesn’t ask any questions and eats the stale, cold carrots, before jumping on the saddle, laying down and savoring the warmth of the horse’s back and laying on it, and kissing the horses back, glad to be alive.

Suddenly cold and bony hands start grabbing at her feet and legs trying to pull her down, and the wails of the dead men start to get louder and louder. She swings her weapons fervently, and cuts off the limbs of anything grabbing for her. After they scream and die, she starts to ride hard, for what she hopes is the Rose Road, it’s covered in snow so, she can't tell anything for a certainty. Honestly, she doesn’t care where she goes, as long as it’s not here. The raven that helped her comes and lands on her shoulder again, looking at her with a gaze that denotes intelligence and understanding.

“Where are we going?” She asks the Raven.

“King! Queen!” The Raven says.

_Kings Landing?_ She has no friends there. Why there? Maybe they need to know what’s happening there.

A cold gust rushes up her back and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when a spear of ice comes flying towards her, sending cold up her neck and scaring the shit out of her.

She is still not safe, she may not ever be safe again. Looks like some of the dead are following her.

“Go!” The Raven says, as she kicks the horse and makes him go full speed ahead.

Never has she heard orders that she’d rather obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you are an artist and you are interested in a possible comic book collaboration, message me please. I'm interested in trying my hand at that.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Barristan is relieved. Mance is intrigued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you reading this, I hope you are safe.

Ser Barristan Selmy

Sitting on the Iron Throne, looking at the scared people of King’s Landing that are being sheltered in the harsh winter, he has nothing but respect for the fact that they seem to have enough food to survive this madness. 

The Dornish have been absolutely miserable, they have never experienced snow and cold temperatures, let alone a cold that will freeze a newborn baby if not careful. The only furs they know are those of exotic and rare animals, so the noble Dornish men and women are wearing tiger pelts, and lion furs, looking like expensive whores. Some of them probably are.

He never knew he had this in him, caring for all of Westeros, but here he is, although it has only been a fortnight, The King and Queen will return soon, after the prince is ready for travel. The sooner, the better. Everyone is looking to him for guidance, but all he knows how to really guide is swords. The Small Council helps well, however.

No ravens are flying, but the riders are the only source of information now, and they come straight to him. Once the corpse of a headless Maester arrived at King's Landing, they sheltered all the people in the city, arming the city watch with dragonglass and preparing for battle. Hearths have been burning for a fortnight, and that’s the only thing that keeps them all from freezing to death. 

He’s been so anxious for the King and Queen to return, that he remembers the names and colors of each dragon, and where they will land, so all Small Council meetings are taken at the Tower of the Hand, the high altitude also lets him see what is going on for the time being. 

Oberyn Martell and Loras Tyrell have never been more valuable, they are supplying him with information on the capital and its people, and are capable of handling a situation, when enforcement is required.

Flint and pitch are well stocked for now, but something is like to go wrong when they have so many people scared and nervous. He counts himself among them. It does not appear as though the dead are going to invade the capital, but the cold is making them scared enough, a whole lot of people trapped in one place is never a good sign. 

At least we have food stores. For now anyway.

Ser Jaime runs into the throne room, along with his son Tommen, that had quietly become his squire. After hearing the needs of the common folk, Ser Jaime walks up to the throne, with an odd look on his face. 

“The Dragons are here.” Ser Jaime says, with Brienne starting to trail behind the Lannister man. The roar above confirms Jaime’s story, and never has he been happier to hear the loud roar of a dragon. 

“Go and get them then, Jaime, Brienne.” Ser Barristan commands.

“Your Grace…” Ser Jaime says mockingly, and leaves the chambers of the throne room. Brienne gives him a sympathetic look, but follows right behind Jaime, with Tommen following along. 

He just sighs, and hopes the monarchs come to relieve him of his duties. He looks at the hand pin on his chest and hopes that he earned it, although he does have faith in the King and Queen and they chose him, so that has to count for something.

A few more dragon roars sound around the capital, and the bells start ringing. 

Winter skies make it difficult to tell night from day, but the four hours of sunlight make for a small window of activity, the snow has blanketed the capital, and the frost is bitter, but the sunlight for a short time makes it not so bad. Until the rest of the darkness overtakes the south. 

Sounds of the capital’s bells continue ringing, and it seems to interest the people in the keep just a little, no matter what is going on around them. 

  
  


The rest of the small council comes in entering the throne room one by one. Ser Davos, Olenna Tyrell, Oberyn Martell, Samwell Tarly, follow him to the tower of the Hand. Robb and Ser Jorah are still in the North, heading south hopefully. Communication is sparse, and the rider they sent North has sent no word.

He’s glad to see it again. This is far more preferable than the Throne.

Entering the room, they walk in the chambers one after the other the Hand last, and standing there with a bundle of furs with silver hair are the King and Queen, looking just as young and beautiful as he remembered, if not more. 

They all kneel immediately.

The sound of the bells ringing surprises the young prince, and he starts to look around, as Ser Barristan slightly opens one eye while kneeling. 

“Rise.” Daenerys says, and they all do. They look as happy as anyone has ever seen them, even though they look tired. 

“Thank you for holding down the capital Ser Barristan, I had faith that you would.” The King says, earning coos from the crown prince. The bells keep ringing, seemingly to highlight the crown prince’s entry into King’s Landing.

“Oh…right…this is Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crown Prince, the Winter Dragon.” The King says with a smile.

“He’s not been born a moon yet, and he’s already got titles…” The Queen says, with her violet eyes trailing off to the side in mild trepidation. Her face lights up when the King speaks, though.

“Sound like anyone you know?” The King replies, and brings a bright smile to her face. 

“Very well,” The Queen says and looks around, forgetting that the small council was there, and that it’s winter, and that Oldtown is likely gone. “Shall we begin?” 

The lot of them go to their respective seats, and they have been meeting long enough that the King and Queen’s chairs are next to each other, not likely to change anytime soon. The Queen hands the babe to the King while she moves the chairs back to sit in them, then the King hands the babe back to her, sliding her chair up when she sits down, 

“Are we going to…meet with the babe here…?” Samwell says.

The Queen gives him a glaring look of intimidation. “I’m sorry, you said something?” She asks the Grand Maester.

“I didn’t say anything, Your Grace.” Samwell says then, looking down in fear.

“Good. How is the capital doing with food?” The Queen asks, holding the silver haired prince in her arms, rubbing his little silver strands of hair. 

Lady Olenna speaks up, “we have enough provisions, with a full capital for at least a year Your Grace, I’m not sure we counted all of the people in King’s Landing, but that is our best estimate.” 

“I’ve been handing out soup and bread myself, Your Graces. The people are mostly okay, other than the fear that keeps them here. Seeing the headless Maester made them afraid.” Ser Davos says.

“Send word to Mance, he needs to get us another supply of food from the Reach, Lady Olenna, we must plan for the absolute worst. We may have to shelter all of the other Kingdoms, if it comes to that, other than the North, they know winter well enough.” The King states. 

Olenna smiles, ”I sent a rider to him, just before you arrived, Your Grace.” 

The King nods his thanks. They all look happy and smiling to have their King and Queen back. Ser Barristan thought it was only him at first, but even in this harsh winter, they make it feel like there’s a summer day outside. 

“Any word from the Citadel?” The King asks, turning the Grand Maester’s mood somber immediately. Sam looks down at his feet, he looks even more timid than usual when the Citadel is mentioned. 

“They...sent...the bodies of the Maesters to all the major castles in Westeros on a horse, without their heads. There are no Maesters besides, the ones that are here in castles…every castle that doesn’t have a Maester is vulnerable. Major injuries, childbirth, studies, and knowledge will all be lacking.” Sam says, fidgeting nervously. 

“Where would he attack now? He’s too smart to attack the Reach, or the Capital. Mance Rayder has fortified the Reach better than we’ve ever seen, no doubt. All the small castles are huddled in the larger castles, and the ones that are left came here for shelter. Where could he go next?” The Queen asks, while the rest of the council just shrugs.

“Any word from the North?” The King says. 

The council shake their heads one after the other when the King looks to each of them. The King just shrugs and the Queen smiles. She is kissing the babe on his rosy cheeks as his silver eyes rove over the council. 

“Do we know anything for a certainty, Ser Barristan?” The Queen asks.

“Only that the dead are at the Citadel and have taken it, Your Grace. None of the riders we sent have returned. They are likely all dead, I suspect.” He says nervously. 

“So the Citadel is lost…” Oberyn says.

“I suspect that the Citadel has been lost for some time, Your Graces.” Samwell says.

“What do you mean Tarly?” Olenna asks. 

“The..Maesters...they were ordering several plots at once, I didn’t want to say anything, but they have a hidden archive of plots to undermine the Seven Kingdoms. Each of them…” Sam says, turning the heads of the small council.

“Had, the Citadel is no more.” The Queen says.

The silence on the subject is only broken by the bells still ringing in the capital. 

“Do we have any information? I want to know more before we burn it.” The King says.

“Burn it?” Davos asks, with some unease in his tone. 

“Aye, it must be burned down to the ground, but I don’t want to burn any people that remain. We need someone that has seen the carnage, but Bran can’t get a raven in too deep, most likely. Oberyn, you fancy a return to the Citadel?” The King japes at the Master of Whispers. 

“No, Your Grace, but I have heard stories of the Holy Hundred rounding up and saving people, guiding them to castles, led by Ser Bonifer Hasty.” Oberyn reports.

_ Bonifer Hasty? He always was infatuated with Queen Rhaella, and he would be the type to do something as reckless as this...I thought that he put down his lance forever? _

“Ser Bonifer? He was...a loyal knight.” He says, trying but failing to hide the look on his face.

The King and Queen pick up on his face immediately and start eyeing him with suspicion, then they look at each other, and then back at Ser Barristan. 

“Thank you for taking care of the capital, while the Crown Prince was born. If you don’t mind, we’d like to speak to our Hand alone.” The Queen says, with a smile. They all nod, except Oberyn, who fidgets nervously, and then walks alongside the rest of the council. 

“Your Grace.” They all say. They watch the council leave, but Oberyn walks more slowly to the doors. He shoos the rest of them out, and then closes the doors. “There is more, Your Graces.” Oberyn says and dips his head. 

The Queen ushers Oberyn to sit and he does so. “About the Holy Hundred. It is indeed being led by Ser Bonifer Hasty, but I hear rumors that there is someone pulling their strings. I have heard everything from the Seven themselves steering them, and there is talk of a woman leading them. What is consistent among them is that Rhaegar Targaryen put some things in motion, and one of them was a small army, this Holy Hundred. Several separate sources confirmed this. They’ve been operating in secret, posing as Septons in some places, hiding in plain sight. I will find out what their goals are.” Oberyn states informatively.

“No need, Oberyn, I think I have a pretty good idea.” The King says. The King continues after rubbing the little prince’s head. “Oberyn, you have done us a great deed, do not think that we have forgotten that none of the swords that make up the Iron Throne are Dornish.” Oberyn smiles as he gets up and walks out of the chamber.

“My father...told me some things when I first saw him…” The King tells them. They perk up at the mention of Rhaegar. “He told me to ring the bells for a full day in the capital, and then something that I never knew would happen. We may find some new secrets of his on the morrow, I hope that we like what we find.” The King states.

“I saw...my mother...When Bran last came to see us, we needed to save you and she had a song from Rhaegar. Once I read it, something strange happened. I mean I went into childbirth, and I got thrown from the island, and back to the present. She wasn’t pregnant, now that I think about it, and she knew about me and Viserys, before I ever told her, how could she know that we lived?” The Queen asks, with concern written on her face. 

“I knew them both well, and they kept lots of secrets from me, I know they met in private several times...before...everything. It’s not a farfetched thing that they had some kind of plan.” He says to the King and Queen, that both shrink back, but then nod after accepting what he just said.

“True!” A voice says, making them all look up. Over to the window, there’s a raven perched up on the opening to the capital. Another joins him, and suddenly there are a few ravens lined up next to each other. 

“Why could you not tell me this when we were together, Bran?” The King says to the raven. 

_ I suppose we are talking to a bird then. There have been more strange things… _

“Blind!” The Raven replies. 

The King and Queen don’t know what to make of this from their expressions.

The Prince giggles at the squeaky voice of the raven.

“Danger!” The Raven says, after a short silence and the raven’s eyes go white and then black again. The same thing is happening to the other ravens. 

“Who’s in danger?” The King asks as all of them put their hands on their weapons, while the Queen starts clutching the little prince closer. 

“Yara!” The raven says, making the Queen get up and walk to the window, staring down the raven.

“You will save her.” The Queen commands the raven.

“Try!” The raven says. 

“No. You will not try, you WILL save her. You were given these powers for a reason, and you will save her.” The Queen says to the Raven, determinedly, and still clutching the Prince all the while.

The Raven flies away quickly, and starts cawing in the air, making the bird calls and the ringing bells create a mysterious melody.

_ Here I thought I had seen everything. _

“Your Grace, I had thought you’d try to fly there yourselves, and that I’d have to fight you on that. I’m glad that you haven’t. ” He says to both of them, after they all turn around and go back to the table in the Tower of the Hand. 

The King holds his hands out for the Prince, and the Queen reluctantly hands the babe over to the King. After the King gets the babe, he looks at Ser Barristan, and then to the Queen, then back at the babe, kissing his forehead. Now he understands why, she thought she’d not have a child, and she will not let the prince leave her sight. 

Can’t say that he blames her.

“Now come, Dany. Ser Barristan. We shall dine with the people in King’s Landing and make sure we deserve this responsibility we have been given.” The King says, and walks with them down to the lower levels, towards the Red Keep.

Mance Rayder

  
  


Outside with his people, Mance is getting reports from what is going on in the Reach and all over the South. The freezing cold winds are nostalgic, reminding him of where he came from. The Free Folk don’t want for anything anymore, and they are surprisingly wealthy. His young son Joramun doesn’t even remember the life beyond the Wall. He has fancy silks, stone walls, wet nurses, a formal education, and even gold that they don't need, not yet anyway. 

Inspecting the dragonglass spikes and trenches all over the Reach, they all look good and sturdy to defend. 

_ We are in the South, but we are always ready for winter. _

He won’t tell his people, but he would go back on his word to them, that they do not kneel. They probably know already though. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Orell comes running in and looks like he has a report, while he is playing with Joramun and eating with Dalla. “Papa, the wargs have something to tell us.” Young Joramun says. He laughs at the way the boy thinks he knows everything.

“Go on, Joramun, Dalla. I’ll speak to you later.” He says and then kisses them. They leave, but Dalla gives him a knowing look of concern while she walks out holding the boy’s hand. 

They escaped the lands north of the Wall, just for the dead to follow them?

Orell comes in and closes the door. This can’t be good.

“What have you seen? Go ahead.” He asks Orell. 

“I saw a girl, riding from Oldtown, somehow she survived, but she doesn’t look too good. There are also these strange ravens flying around. A Warg no doubt, but all of them at the same time? Is that the King's brother you told us about?” Orell asks him. He nods to him, and that seems to satisfy Orell’s curiosity. The Warg continues.

“We have another rider, from King’s Landing. Says he’s here for you.” 

_ Looks like today will be an eventful day. _

“Come along, we will meet the riders outside.” He says to his men, Val among them, they nod and then come along.

They saddle up and ride for the entrance to Highgarden.

There are the two that Orell reported, a cold and nearly freezing girl with a bird on her shoulder, and a rider with Dragon and wolf sigils, with a burned face. 

“Who are you?” He asks the large man. 

“Me? Just a dog. They call me the Hound. I volunteered to come, I like your people, they are all mad fuckers.” The Hound says, and they all start laughing.

“The King and Queen asked for food to be sent to King's Landing, enough for another year or two. I’m here to help it get there.” The Hound continues on.

Styr grabs his axe’s hilt, but he puts his hand on his wrist to stop him. The Hound ignores the foolish man, letting him know that this is not a man that you want to cross.

“We’ll do it. We thought they would need it anyway. We have wagons half loaded, so we will fill them and send them along. Styr, go and load the wagons, and get them ready to go.” He orders, and Styr goes to follow his orders. 

“We need men to see us through to the capital. My men have been ready for this, let’s see it done.” He says to the Hound, but he doesn’t hear him. The Hound is over at the girl’s horse checking her vitals. He picks the girl up and carries her over to him, she’s half-dead, but still breathing and cold. 

“You know her?” He asks the Hound. 

“Yara Greyjoy.” The Hound replies, “she’s good with the Queen, tough ol’ bitch, I heard.” Now the large man brings the girl up to him and he glances over her, she has a winter cold and he knows just the thing. 

“Get some skins and some wine,” He tells Val, and she grabs some from a pouch nearby and puts them over her, warming them just a little first with a small torch, and taking wine in another skin and bringing it up to Yara’s mouth. Yara swallows the wine a few gulps, but then starts coughing. Val then puts the skins on her, over her clothes, slowly and carefully, covering her with warm skins. Val pours more wine in her mouth, and the girl gulps it down again, coughing once more. Color returns to her face slowly. 

“This one is stubborn, she won’t die so easily.” Val says. 

“Bring her with us, we will ride ahead and make sure the food will make it. Don’t want any surprises, the dead have been crafty.” He says. 

They all nod to him. 

They ride for the capital, The Hound leading and the Greyjoy on the horse before him. The Raven stays with Yara, and he knows this is one of the ones that Orell mentioned. A warg, a powerful one at that. Such power in the hands of a young boy makes him think of his son, the young boy that hasn’t even earned his last name yet.

Hopefully the name Joramun won’t be a burden to him, but it’s winter and they know how to live. 

The Hound’s horse stops suddenly, and then the horse starts shuddering. His horse catches up and he can see the Hound and Yara struggling first, and then talking once she calms down. 

“You saved me?” Yara asks. 

The Hound nods his head over to Mance, as the rest of the riders catch up to them. Yara just looks at him and then examines the rest of the group. “Thank you. You saved my life, I had no idea how to get warm and I would have been frozen if not for you.” Yara says.

“We know winter better than anyone, we are used to this weather. It will take a lot more than this to kill us.” He tells the girl.

“My brother Theon said you were alright, I guess I should have listened.” Yara says, dismounting, and then going to grab wood for a fire. She’s still cold apparently. He stops the foolish girl from getting them all killed.

“Don’t, the fire attracts them, we are not safe out here, we are going for the capital, to secure a path for the food.” He tells her and she nods.

“I saw them…” She says with her voice and eyes just as cold as the frosty winds. 

“Aye, it’s not a pretty sight.” He says and the Hound just nods. 

“I need to tell the King and Queen to burn the place down, and I know just where they are. They were following me when I left…” She tells the group.

“They don’t usually follow people, I wonder if you saw something that they didn’t want you to see.” He says, and she shrugs.

Footsteps in the snow make the horses start to shake and jitter nervously. 

“Dead!” The raven on her shoulder says, making them all ready their weapons. 

Dead men come running towards them, all seemingly trying to head for Yara. They start whistling formations to each other. 

The few of them riding together, kill the wights easily, they all have dragonglass, and Yara and Hound do too. Together they each kill about twenty dead men, and they all screech and turn into bones.

_ What did she see? _

They stop and make formation, nervous with the eerie silence and the faint sound of bells ringing in the background.

“More!” The raven says. 

_ Why so many? _

A large host of blue eyes appears before them, the only sense of direction being that sound of the bells, and they are still pretty faint, making them unable to tell just how far away from the capital they are. There are hundreds of them, as if they were already there.

Were they hiding in the snow? That would be the simplest way to sneak this many on them.   
  


The blue eyes get closer and closer, spooking the horses even further.

“Ride.” He tells the lot of them and they saddle up, preparing to ride for the capital in all haste. He decides to be last, because the people here are young, and they will protect his son with their lives. 

_ It might be time to die, and he would not regret a thing. _

A group of ten dead men surround his horse as he’s riding and they just ride through them. The Horses are getting slower as well, but he can still see the other riders. The horses whining ahead of him doesn’t sound too good however, and the dead men are clawing at him, trying to take his life. 

_ I’ll not make it so easy.  _

As he rides, with the horse merely trotting, he can see that the riders ahead are having more trouble with the cold and the dead, the cold being unnatural, even for beyond the Wall. No wonder the girl nearly froze.

A dead man staring at him gets a rope wrapped around his neck out of nowhere and dragged off, still clawing as the wight is pulled by the rope around his neck.

_ A rope? Who uses a rope in this situation? _

Now several ropes get wrapped around each of the dead men that he sees, and his companions call for him loudly, and oddly. 

He follows their voices through the thick snow, stepping over dead horses and the like to the chants of “Mance, this way!” 

After he finds the spot, there is another chant, let by a man that looks strange. He has on fur, but a seven pointed star on leather boiled armor, painted gold to indicate some kind of holiness. 

“Holy?” The man says.

“Hundred!” The men reply.

_ Who are these people? _ The rest of them look just as confused as he is, but also glad to be alive.

“Who are you, are you servants of the seven?” The strange man asks.

“Old Gods, I’m afraid.” He tells the man. The rest of his people shook their heads at him to tell him not to say anything, but he’s not going to lie to the man for saving his life.

The man puts his hand on his chin in thought. “The Old Gods is it? The Mother welcomes all that are not firmly in the clutches of evil, but the Warrior guides us today against these monsters. Now we wait for the Father to pass his judgement, but first we must behold.” 

He narrows his eyes and scrutinizes the man, he wants to speak, but he just sits there silently. He glances at these Holy Hundred men and they all have steel blades. Not enough to kill these dead men, but they are not afraid, that is stupidity if he ever heard it.

“Behold!” The men start chanting, “Behold! Behold!” 

_ What is their deal? _ He decides to just watch. His other companions do too.

There is a large tree with ropes strung from them when they walk a little further through the snow. The dead men are hanging from the tree, dangling and snapping their teeth.

All of the Holy Hundred are staring intently.  _ What are they doing? _

A woman now comes up, in simple clothes but with fur. She doesn’t have a star like the others, but just plain clothes with a simple coat of fur. 

“Behold! Behold!” The Holy Hundred say.

The man says some words, but he’s more distracted by this woman with jet black hair, dark as charcoal, with a few silver streaks shining through, likely just old grey hairs. 

The woman just walks right up to the squirming dead men, hanging on the tree and they keep snarling, and the ropes bounce and sway from their constant moving. 

_ Why hang them? Don’t they know that that won’t kill them? _

His thoughts are broken when the man brings a box to the woman, and kneels, then opens the box for the woman. He can’t see her face too well, just her dark streaks of hair. The woman now pulls out a horn, a small one from the box, and holds it in her hand, smoothing her hand over it.

“Behold!” The men say again. 

The storm still makes it hard to see, but the outline of the woman is pulling the horn up to her mouth. She takes a deep breath and then blows the horn. A full and deep sound rings through the area. The Horn blows three times, making him feel just a little warmer than he did before, oddly.

Even more oddly, the wights hanging stop moving, staying completely still and then they start shaking violently. After a few moments of convulsing, the dead men fade into dust. A small black cloud of smoke rises, and it calms the snowstorm that was just raging. 

He doesn’t need to look around to see the other jaws of his companions on the ground alongside his own.

With the storm gone, he can see the face of the woman, beautiful and a little aged. A single solitary tear flows down her face when she turns slightly, and he sees one of her eyes, deep violet, and the horn she is holding appears to be the Horn of Winter. 

_ Just who is this woman? _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val seeks out the mystery woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here. Getting used to doing the school thing, and i don't have as much access to write, so It'll be a little slower than before.

Val

All the Free Folk have become southron in one way or another. They have the fancy silks and gold, but they still follow Mance to the end. _We can do more with the fancy southron things than they can,_ Val reasons. _That’s the only reason they still have all these fancy things isn’t it?_

Occasionally these southron people surprise her. She followed Mance on this mission, because he likes the King. Seems everybody does. She would steal his bed if it didn’t mean being eaten by a dragon. That would be the least of her problems. She used to hate all of these people south of the Wall, but the King brought them all together, and he gave them food, and a name. They’ll not soon forget that.

These ‘holy men’ are very strange, so she follows them to find out what their real motives are, they know little about how the Free Folk operate, and the Free Folk know little of the Holy Hundred. It makes for odd kinds of conversations, but they still have a common enemy. A common King too.

Sneaking around, she hears an argument over food, and it's the big brutish fellow, tossing the holy men around, fighting over the last chicken. _Don’t they know we have more?_

“It’s my fucking chicken, I’ll kill all hundred of you or throw you in the blackwater with that stupid armor on, see if your seven will save you then.” The Hound says. He is grabbing the men and throwing them around, tossing them into each other, but no blood has been drawn, yet.

No wonder this wild, tall man likes the Free Folk, he’d fit right in. Mance is just laughing at the man.

The leader of the group comes forth and challenges the Hound. “You are a foul man, we step upon this frozen soil for holy reasons, the Mother guides us to our tasks, and she-“

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, you are going to meet the Stranger.” The Hound cuts the man off.

The holy man starts to protest, but the black-haired woman comes forth and silences the lot of them. “Are you quite finished? Not everyone wants to hear a lecture, Ser Bonifer, clearly, this man is not evil. Though he could mind his tongue a little,” as the woman side eyes the Hound, sending him looking down at the snow, “but he probably has a job to do. Same as us. Don’t push ideals on to anyone, let alone a person with a half burnt face. He has no qualms of killing you, so don’t corner a Hound and expect to not get bitten.”

Val just now notices that the raven that came with the Greyjoy girl is nowhere to be found, as Yara is warming up, her pale skin turning lightly blue in some areas, with frostbite. _Why did the Raven go away?_

The woman walks closer to Sandor, but she has a cloth covering parts of her face, hiding her features, but even through that, they can tell that she’s still beautiful. _Who is this woman that commands even a hundred men?_ This is not what she has been led to believe of the southron ways.

“These men mean you no harm. Just what is your name, Ser?” The woman asks the hound.

The Hound seems to acquiesce to this woman, just like all the other men. She also has a dagger on her hip, probably the best weapon for a small woman, even surrounded by all these ‘holy’ men.

“Sandor…Clegane…is the name I was given. I am called the dog, and the Hound, because that’s what kind of person I have been.” The Hound says, spilling his secrets to this woman, upon their first interaction.

“Cle…gane…?” The woman says. She looks like anger flashes her eyes, and her hand rests firmly on her dagger. She looks at this Ser Bonifer, and then he shakes his head at her. Finally she contemplates and speaks again. “I don’t know, why, but I hate that name…In truth, I don’t know my actual name, It has been lost to me. I only know that I’m here for a reason, and that I once took a great fall, from…I know not where. Ser Bonifer saved me, and I’ve been with him and the Holy Hundred ever since.” The woman admits, while she walks up to the Hound and touches the burned part of his face.

“Be glad that you at least know your name, that means something. You can be foul mouthed, but you are at least honest. Tell me, Sandor…Why are you here and now?” The woman asks The Hound.

“Bringing food stores to King’s Landing so the King and Queen can feed the people, and perhaps last the rest of the winter. I was sent to make a path for the wagons, from the Reach to the gates of the capital.” The Hound replies.

“Sounds like a holy task, Ser. We will guide the wagons here from the Reach, but we will not set foot in the capital. Tis not a holy place. Dragons, lions, wolves, and vipers abound. We shall go our separate wa-“ Ser Bonifer says and the woman cuts him off.

“Bonifer…this is yet another time that the capital is mentioned and you say-“ The woman gets out before Ser Bonifer interjects, looking at both Val and Sandor with suspicion, whisking her away, and taking her to a private place where they can speak privately.

Val silently follows, something about them has her curiosity.

They are arguing with each other. About what seems to escape her, but she listens anyway.

“Every time someone mentions the capital, you turn me away, I must know why and I must know now.” The woman demands.

“The King and Queen do not worship the seven, my dear…surely you understand the dangers of such a task.” Ser Bonifer replies.

“More dangerous than the frigid cold, or hunting these dead men? Will you at least tell me why they are ringing the bells? I feel the sound of the bells in my very essence. If I stop thinking, my feet carry me right towards the very sound of them. I know that you are hiding something from me, and I accept that, but I swear to you that if it’s something important, then I will become just as monstrous as those dead men we have been destroying. I only follow you because you saved me from when I tried to fling myself from…I can’t remember.” She says grabbing her head.

“My daughter needs me…” She grabs her head again, wincing in pain. “What am I saying?” The woman says worriedly, breathing with difficulty as if awakening from a nightmare.

“You are right, I am hiding some things from you, but it’s because of what you have been through, I thought it best you not know everything…” Ser Bonifer says. He walks closer to her, hands on her hips and then continues.

“In truth, I want you to know that I do not want to lose you. If you go to the capital, I will lose you, and not just anyone can use that horn. It’s something in your blood. You are here for a reason, and everyone has their purpose in life. Yours is to be by my side, and mine is to be by yours.” Ser Bonifer says.

“If you won’t let me find out who I am, then you have already lost me…Also, if what you say is true, then why do you insist on this ridiculous charcoal and ink in my hair? My hair was just fine before.” She asks in reply, breaking away from him and walking slightly away.

Ser Bonifer just shuffles nervously. “Another time, my dear, too many wondering eyes and ears…”

The man walks away to tend to his men. “I have secrets of my own…” She hears the woman mutter.

The woman sits on a nearby chest and starts holding up a looking glass to gaze upon her features. She doesn’t turn at all, no change in direction while looking at herself, and she mutters, “I know you are there.”

She was caught. Val steps out from behind a tree, showing her appearance to the woman.

“You are the one that was with those other men, aren’t you, the ones they called wildlings, is it?” The woman asks, without judgement.

Val nods wordlessly.

The woman stands up slowly, and looks into the chest, rummaging around in it, before opening a small compartment.

She pulls out an old letter, deteriorated and crumbling. She holds it to her chest.

“Did you hear my conversation?” The woman asks her.

“I did.” She responds.

“Do you know the answer to my questions?” The woman asks determinedly, with her deep violet eyes making her feel as if she’s in the presence of heart tree, so great is the watchful gaze of this woman.

“The bells are ringing because the Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen has been born. The King and Queen, Jaehaerys and Daenerys Targaryen have had their first child together.” She tells the woman.

“Rhae…gar…?” The woman says. “I have seen that name before, in a book was it? Or maybe it was a song.” The woman says.

The mysterious woman now grabs another parchment from the chest and takes a quill and scribbles on the parchment.

“I have written this name before, I think I have written the three of them… Rhaegar…perhaps I was transcribing something at the Citadel… It’s not out of the question that the Maesters were the ones that did this to me…I’m not surprised that the dead decided to extinguish them…” The woman says sadly. Suddenly she perks up and gets an idea, from the expression on her face.

“Do any of you know the King and Queen?” The woman asks.

“The Hound does. Mance knows the King as well. They will have no trouble speaking to the King.” She tells the woman, the woman smiles like a summer day, brightening the mood of the conversation with a woman that doesn’t even know her own name.

“Bring them to me.” The woman commands.

Val stares at the woman for a time, and then she decides not to protest, and meets the woman’s demands, seeking out The Hound and Mance.

She finds Mance first, tending to the other Free Folk and making talk with the men of the Holy Hundred. “Dragonglass you say? What is this substance you speak of?” Ser Bonifer asks Mance.

“Obsidian, black stone, some of my people call it. It kills those dead men, but it doesn’t turn them into dust. Bones, this one turns them into, the bodies just stop moving.” Mance replies, as Ser Bonifer looks over and examines the Dragonglass dagger.

Mance side eyes her while conversing and she nods him over with her head.

“We have axes and swords too, check them and see if you want any of them, we have plenty, we were just caught unawares by the dead that came out of the ground it seems.” Mance says, trekking over to Val’s position.

“The woman wants to see you, she said bring the Hound as well.” She tells Mance.

Mance looks intrigued, and looks on with an odd look, but nods nonetheless.They go over to the Hound, who’s conversing with Yara.

“The Queen probably wants you alive.” The Hound says.

“So watch your fucking mouth, is what I mean wench.” The Hound says after she looks at him shocked.

“You talk a good game Hound, but you are just a talker, you won’t kill a royal guest.” Mance says and claps Sandor on his shoulder, to him grumbling, chewing on a chicken bone, and throwing it down to the ground in anger.

“Come, Hound, the woman in this group wishes to speak to us. You might as well come along, Greyjoy.” Mance says. Yara sips more tea and jumps up, glad to listen to the leader of the Free Folk seemingly. The Greyjoy woman does seem to look at her, staring her down hair, features, and looks into her eyes. Val just trudges along awkwardly, but she does have her spear nearby, with a small dagger on standby. That raven that was with the Kraken woman flies around the area, probably watching for enemies. It flies away once they head towards where the woman was, however. “Blind,” the raven says.

Thinking on the cold, while walking towards the camp clearing where the mystery woman is, she realizes that she is a southron woman now, and she curses herself for still holding on to the same hatred for these people when the King and Queen allow them freedom. She could steal anyone’s bed she wanted, and they might come with a new castle.

_We have the same King and Queen, and the same enemy, we have no need to fight anymore, but we are always ready if it comes to that._

She walks up to the spot where the woman was and there are men standing guard, looking to block their entry.

“We do not permit visitors to make their way to the Mother. Especially those that do not bear the seven pointed star.” The men say to the group.

Each one of them look down at their weapons, but the ten men lined up break formation and spread out into two even lines. The woman walks out amongst the men and they all relax and stand down.

“These are our guests men, are you not professing that the Mother welcomes all and treats them with mercy?” She says, walking in between the gulping men. They do not respond.

“Since you insist on calling me that, then I’ll have you respect my words. Now leave me with them, before I send you to hunt for the dead, alone and weaponless.” The woman says.

The men walk away quickly, save for one of them. This one just stands there and gestures for them to go through, with his green eyes peeking at them through the armored helm, and a glimpse of silver flashes her eyes as she walks past the knight.

The woman walks back to her tent and sits down, the green eyed man just stays back, just within earshot, but not close enough to make a move.

“Come, sit with me.” The woman says, with a fancy dagger on her hip, that looks unused.

They silent close in together, seated and looking over each other with wonder, the Greyjoy girl still shivering and and getting closer to the fire. The Hound stares at the lot them, before looking over to the mystery woman and sitting down.

Once they are all seated, the woman starts grabbing hair materials, a brush and a strange solution, and brushes her hair, with a think pelt over over her shoulders. The silver streaks start flowing through, with the thick, black drops of ink, and flakes of charcoal start flowing to the side, showing that this woman was older than they thought. They all look at the woman with awe, as she looks so much older with her silver streaks starting to shine through.

“I know, you thought I was this young woman, but this is my hair, and I will wear it as such. I want to remember my name, and this silver hair is the only remnant of who I am. It’s important to me, and it’s mine, I’ll be me, even if no one likes the silver hairs of old age, as Ser Bonifer tells me.” She says as they just look on at her, more and more black soaking and falling out of her hair, turning the old, ruined pelt a deep black from the ink and the charcoal spots. They just listen on like children at story time.

“Do you know what loneliness is?” She says to them.

They nod slowly. The Hound nodding most of all. That seems to light a fire in Greyjoy’s eyes, with the recent run in with death coming back to her as fear flashes over her face. She nods fervently as well.

“I only know loneliness, you see. It feels like…a hand wrapped around your neck, trying to strangle you. A flood of emotions trickling through you like a heavy rainstorm. I love these men that protect me, each of them, but I am not their Mother. There is somewhere that I must be. I have not yet found out the place where I belong, and I’m afraid that it makes my life meaningless. I am surrounded by soldiers and yet the world seems empty to me. I do my duty, but it does not move my heart. I need a purpose and while I do not know who I am, I know I am not this Mother that they call me. This is my reason for calling you here.” She says, as they silently look on. Clegane seems to understand what she means more than the others.

The woman continues. “You are going to take me into the castle, I must meet this King and Queen, and I must decide whether this life I have is worth living. Can you do that?” She asks with serious look permeating her violet eyes, and she stopped brushing her hair in that moment.

“Aye.” The Hound says determined. None of the rest of them are so sure.

“Good, because I wasn’t really asking.” The woman says.

“Aurane Waters.” The woman says louder, and the single soldier that stayed behind, removes his helm, with his own silver strands of hair falling to the side. The handsome man comes forward, waiting for a command with the similar looking woman nodding to him. “It’s time.” She says to the young man.

“This is what I have been waiting for. I think I might be able to finally find my way in this cruel world. Some Septon had been informing me on what to do before our correspondence stopped. What kind of a name is Septon Sadsong anyway?” The woman asks.

Aurane, that handsome, green-eyed knight, has a look of shame on his face, as if he knows more than he is telling. He is also shocked and surprised that the woman has silver strands of hair.

“By the gods,” he says when he gets to her. “I thought you were…That’s no good, I have no idea who you are now, my Lady.” Aurane says.

“Well, let’s see if we can make it to the capital and find out then shall we?” The woman says.

They trek to the gates of Kings Landing together. Sounds of bells ringing get louder and louder, and men line up on the gates. The Hound shouts out for the gates to open and they do.

As soon as they walk in to the gates, the woman grabs her head in pain once again. “My daughter needs me, take care of my daughter…”

The group of them just look at each other, wondering what to make of this woman. The handsome knight goes over to comfort the woman, however.

Finally they get make their way to a large crowd, looks like an event of some kind, and they all see the dragons flying overhead, circling the bell towers while the bells are still ringing.

This prince must be important.

With so many people here, it’s hard to make out anything but the King and Queen are there, in black and red armor, with just a few guards near her, a blue-eyed older man with a hand-pin on his shoulder, and a green-eyed blonde man with a white cloak, as well as a blond haired woman, tall as she’s ever seen, but giving orders to the other men with the white cloaks on. Not a sight Val has ever seen before.

The few of them are looking to get through the crowds, and their best bet is to follow the Hound, when he walks towards them, the people in the crowd clear out, just a little.

The blonde-headed man, looks like he saw a ghost at some point. He stares over in the direction of their group. Now the blonde man goes and whispers to the older man with the hand pin on his dragon-clad cloak and the older man starts staring then. They look out of their mind with wonder and awe, and look to be whispering to each other, then looking at the King and Queen. The two of them look afraid to speak to the Queen with a babe in her arms, staring into the child’s little silver eyes.

The loud sound of the bells makes it difficult to hear anything, and the older man and the younger blonde man are still whispering to each other, looking like they are afraid and nearly shaking with nervousness.

Finally, the older man walks over to the queen and whispers in her ear. The Queen’s face turns from disbelief to anger and she stands up instantly. The crowd gets silenced, and the only sound going around is the ringing of the bells. The heavy thumps of the bell shake the ground, just a little. The Queen gives the babe to the King, and then proceeds to hold her hand up high for a short time. Slowly, the sound of the bells starts slowing down, little by little, and the ringing sound gets softer after a time of the queen holding her hand up.

They finally stop ringing after a while. So this is what the Queen looks like. Wait a second…this Queen has the same hair and same eyes the woman that they travelled with to the capital with. It’s not every day that you see that color, she thought it was old age on the woman, but clearly this one is not that aged. Even the babe she had has the same color hair.

_That can’t be a coincidence._

The Queen points over to their group led by the Hound and the few of them walk towards the head table, where the King and Queen are seated. The two women stare at each other as if they were creatures of a different species. The Queen looks awed, and the other woman looks confused.

“Mother!?” The Queen finally says with nervousness, and walks over to the woman, slowly, and embraces her just the same way she was just embracing the silver babe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being here if you're still reading.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dragon returns to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, sorry it took so long. I needed a break. I'm back now though.

Jaime Lannister

Rhaella Targaryen. The best person he probably ever laid his eyes on, perhaps in league with his mother. He can do nothing but stare as the two violet-eyed women just eye each other. It must be quite the thing to see a person that you never thought you’d see again. Everyone seems to be speechless, as the excitement of the moment takes over the throne room.Standing around the stairs of the throne room, the few of them comprehend the sheer abnormality of the situation.

They know Rhaella more than her own children did, namely Daenerys, and the King is also her grandson. They also have brought another Rhaegar into this world, and the King is sitting on the Iron Throne, just playing with the babe, trying to distract himself from the situation. Finally that familiar melancholic expression works its way onto the King’s face and he looks up at his grandmother.

Now the King stands up, holding the little prince, and is just as shocked as everyone else.

“Who are you?” Rhaella asks, sadly. For some reason, she can’t remember anything, and it pains the lot of them.

“I am Daenerys, your daughter.” The Queen replies.

“Daenerys…That name feels familiar, but I don’t remember…” Rhaella says.

The Queen points to the King and the Prince now.

“Jaehaerys, and Rhaegar…” The Queen shows her mother the rest of her family, and their silver eyes just make their way to her face, staring, where the little one is looking all over the place curiously.

The King rushes forward and hugs her strongly, and kisses her cheek, bring a smile to her face, making the mood in the freezing cold winter feel not so bad, if only for a moment.

“You are…the sun in the winter. You are the the life that we don’t deserve. That crown that the Queen is wearing, it’s really yours…I heard a story once, about a Lightbringer, they say it’s a sword, along with a promised prince.” The King says as he looks at his son. “I didn’t put much thought into it, but it just might be you…You are…Rhaella Targaryen, you are just what the world needs.” The Queen says as the King nods to the Queen Mother, starting to get a little choked up.

Rhaella always did have the ability to light up a room with only a smile. She starts mouthing her name with some small bits of recognition.

“I’m sorry that you don’t remember. But we will help you remember if you want, you are one of us, and your place is here now. Grandmother.” The King says, while Rhaella searches his face, and apparently likes what she sees.

Ser Barristan and the Queen then start questioning her, and her look starts turning to apprehension. Understandable, if she still thinks of them as strangers.

“Let’s hear about it from her, let her tell us, in her own way. Let her tell us what she remembers when she feels comfortable.” The King says.

They back off, letting the woman have some space and breathe, as she regains her composure.

“Jaehaerys the conciliator indeed.” Jaime says to them, with a smirk.

They just smirk at him, and so does Rhaella. She’s starting to remember the familiarity of the scene, and it warms his heart.

The King walks back up to Rhaella, and they both stare at each other, and then the King looks down at his son, then hands the babe to her. She eyes the little one, and he starts squirming in her arms, but calms when she starts singing to him. All the time he had spent with Rhaella, he had hardly ever seen a happy expression on her face, unless Rhaegar was near, and now is the only other time he had seen that look upon her face.

_Looks like it takes a Rhaegar to calm this woman. Knowing him, Rhaegar would have found away to see through the eyes of this tiny little one…_

“I had the feeling that I had a child in the world somewhere…But I never thought I’d see violet eyes, on anyone else again…” Rhaella says with a sorrowful expression.

She starts speaking on the past, and the King smiles while Ser Barristan and the Queen just look on.

“Ser Bonifer found me…some time ago. I just remember being in a boat with him, and he saved me…I was running away from something, or someone…”

“We lived in a tiny little house, and I had never been happier, so I thought. Later, I started feeling as though something was missing, and I couldn’t figure out where the scars I had came from…” Rhaella says, still smiling at her tiny little grandson, or is it great-grandson?

Him and Ser Barristan look at each other with recognition. The King and Queen’s mouths start twitching, but they don’t say anything, listening on and looking with a sad look in both of their eyes.

The Queen takes off her ring, handing it to her mother, and Rhaella spins it around on her finger, just like he remembers her doing.

_Some memories die hard…_

“You look just as well as I remember, Queen Rhaella, and you were always the strongest woman I had ever met. I regret not being able to do more, when Aerys was going mad…” He says to Rhaella as she looks on mildly disinterested.

“I don’t believe in regrets, Ser…Jaime…was it? I knew that I was missing something, but if you have the time to regret, then you have the time to do something that you don’t regret. Carry on and become a little better than you have been in the past.” Rhaella says, piercing his heart with her violet gaze. He stares at the stump of his right hand as her words impact him heavily.

After the short silence, and contemplation of the absurd situation, Rhaella finally blurts out, “Another thing, who is Aerys?”

Subsequently, all the smiles died at the mention of that name. Everyone of them look over at each other, wondering how to explain it to her.

“Well? I can see that each of you know, and I’ll hear it from you, I don’t care for the looks that you are giving me. I’ll not hear lies either. Tell me all of it and tell me true.” Rhaella commands.

“First, tell us about Ser Bonifer, you mentioned you were just living in a little house, where? Why did no one know this?” Queen Daenerys asks.

Rhaella clutches at her fur pelt, and pulls out and old and heavily deteriorated letter.

“We were hidden away from the world. We founded the Holy Hundred together after he saved me, and he told me that it would be difficult for me, as I struggled with losing my memory. I snuck out one day and tried to go to the Citadel to learn about silver-haired, violet-eyed people in Westeros, but the books were missing or burned. Someone made it so that I couldn’t learn who I am. Bonifer…he…was there for me. I thought it was okay to forget, but I had dreams, some good, some horrible. He was there with me through it all, but he knows something and I am sick of it being hidden from me. You will tell me, and you will tell me now.” She says, with a bit of ferocity.

The Queen and King start whispering to each other, likely deciding whether to try and restore her memories.

Jaime doesn’t know himself what to do in that situation.

Finally they come to a decision seemingly. They nod their affirmations and look to Rhaella.

“Come with me.” Queen Daenerys says to her mother. She takes Rhaella by the arm and leads her away. The two monarchs kiss briefly and the King kisses little Rhaegar’s head while the two dragons head elsewhere. After they leave the King fixes his eyes towards the remaining two men.

A slight bead of sweat makes its way down his face as the King is now looking at him and Ser Barristan with that look that scares everyone other than the Queen.

_What now?_

“Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, go and see if you can’t persuade Ser Bonifer to make his way to me, shall you?” The King says to them, in a daring, and dangerous tone. Neither one of them want to look him in the eyes.

Finally they do, and they both gulp and go to leave the city to find this man.

“Wait.” The King tells them. They stop in their tracks.

“I am coming too.” He says, making Jaime afraid for Ser Bonifer.

A dragon roars overhead, and usually this doesn’t affect him, but this time that roar was a little too close for comfort. It feels like his armor is shaking still. Good thing there is a dragon sigil on it.

They make way for the outskirts of the capital, they meet up with Brienne and The Hound on the way out, The King speaks to Mance and Val for a short time, and sends Yara over to where the Queen and her mother are, with the Greyjoy woman looking surprised at the invitation to the Red Keep. Lastly, the King brings Aurane Waters with them, as he could show them the way.

They trek through the city, quieter than usual in this harsh winter cold, but still alive. That’s the best they can ask for.

“Tell me about her.” The King commands. Him and Ser Barristan are walking together, with Aurane Waters walking well before them, and Brienne and the Hound well behind the three of them.

“She was, is, the one thing that made me proud to be a Kingsguard. A woman like that is the strongest person you could ever meet. We always felt strange that it was not our job to protect her from Aerys, but it made me look at my vows and white cloak a little differently. I’m sorry, Your Grace, there’s more, but I think that it would be better served if she was the one to tell you.” Ser Barristan says with lament, along with a bit of guilt.

“I was a boy, wearing a white cloak, sworn to protect her. I couldn’t really, not from the real monster. I learned what love is in the cruelest sort of way. I often wondered what would happen if she decided to end him one day. It was just a sad thing, respect, hatred, love, concern, going through the mind of a young man. It made me smile when I saw Aerys’ dead body, laying before the throne. I may have been young and dumb, but not in that instance.” He says to the onlooking King and Hand. He can feel tears starting to well up in his eyes, as he looks away from their concerned stares.

Ser Barristan only saw this from his perspective, so he’s shocked into silence at the realization that his opinion of the situation was more complex than he had hoped. Ser Barristan nods to him, assuring him that he was heard.

While walking through the snow filled capital, crunching with each step, they make their way to the gates, with silence reigning at the conversation that they had about Queen Rhaella.

“Jaime.” The King says strongly. He looks back and into his silver eyes. “If I become like that, like Aerys. Kill me.” The King says, with no hesitation on his lips. “Kill me and be done with it. But you still make sure that Dany, and Rhaegar are okay, can you understand that?” The King asks him.

He nods in agreement, Ser Barristan silently looking on.

“Then you are forgiven for any and all of your crimes, up until this point. Truly.” The King says.

It felt like a gargantuan weight off of his shoulders.

“It’s a difficult thing, she feels more like Daenerys’ mother than she does my grandmother. But yet she is both. I shall speak more with her after we speak to this Ser Bonifer.” The King says, while the gates open, and Aurane Waters leads them outside, and in the direction of the Holy Hundred.

Bonifer Hasty

With Rhaella gone from his side, the cold had returned in full force, threatening to freeze his bones, but he’ll not tell his men that. They looked to him as a leader, but it was really her. She was the fire in his soul, and he could not bear to lose her again. Now with her gone, he has no idea what to do, as she was the thing that kept him going.

Aurane Waters comes running for them, hurriedly and heavily panting.

“The King comes forth to speak to you. Best be prepared.” Aurane informs him.

The sun is up, for the short time that they can see it. The warmth of the sun is slightly warm, making the Holy Hundred more resolute in the cold of winter. He sees the men looking towards him, with a glare of respect. He nods to them and they start to form a line. “Form up.” He says to them. The men line up shouting commands, and make lines to impede the advance of an incoming calvary charge. Aurane watches on, but doesn’t join the men. “You know better than to engage the King, Ser Bonifer, don’t be a fool.” The men listen on but don’t stop their formations. “There’s only a few of them coming, but you forgot about something.”

The skies go a little darker, as a large shadow passes above them, followed by a gust of icy wind, and the fear starts to work its way into their ranks.

“It’s a dragon that comes to visit you this day.” Aurane says.

A green dragon swoops down and roars, breaking the ranks of the formations, leaving a hole in their lines, broken by just the sound of the dragons roar. The dragon’s wings flap quickly, sending ice shards and frozen wind in his direction and he covers his face to protect it from the solid ice. Then the dragon just lands right in front of him with a thud, not yet harming any of his men. The Holy Hundred just look to him for answers, as if he has any. The green dragon just stares at him with his teeth bared, bronze eyes looking at and through him, a piercing gaze that lets him know not try anything, if he ever had such a thought.

Never does he even bother to reach for his sword. He hears the men shouting. “Your…Grace, what is the meaning of…” “Make way, Make way…” “Don’t engage the dragon…” He hears in the background, but the men part, making room for three armored men with dragon sigils on their chests, two of which that he knows. Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Jaime Lannister. He doesn’t know or trust these men since they were around Rhaella during the time she was with Aerys, and they did nothing to protect her. This makes him seethe with anger and he reaches for his sword, he may not be the best knight, but he knows that he can at least defend himself. The sword is knocked out his hand as soon as it leaves its scabbard and the next thing he knows he is on his back with a sword pointed at his throat, and the blade seems to radiate warmth. “So this is what it means to face down a dragon, is it?” He says to the King, staring him down, each one of the holy hundred completely still, with fear washing over them.

“Ser Bonifer Hasty, I am pleased to meet you.” The King says, while the sword Blackfyre is steaming heat near his face and it makes him sweat with the heavy cloak and furs he is wearing during the harsh winter cold.

He should have known better than to keep her identity a secret for longer than he had to, his instructions were clear, but he just could not let her go. His weakness. He had done it before when he had no choice, but he had a choice in this matter.

It’s then that he starts to remember why he’s here and what led him to this point.

Some time ago…

Walking along the walls of Harrenhal, dreading the blackened castle, and still haunted by the love of his life belonging to another, the bitterness tugs at his heart.

_I’m not fit to lead a castle this way, he thinks to himself._ He heads outside, to get some fresh air, and to think.

A young man rides beside a knight, they are both armored, but the young man carries no sword. He has books and formula scrolls, as well as a solemn expression on his face. The knight comes forth and he notices the dragon sigils on the armor of both lads.

“Ser Bonifer.” The young man says, and it appears to be the young Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, accompanied by Ser Arthur Dayne. They look at him with wonder, and some suspicion as well. He returns the expressions, wondering what they want to speak to him for.

_Did Aerys send them to cut me down? Am I a threat?_ He wonders to himself.

“Prince Rhaegar.” He replies. Neither he nor Ser Arthur has let their hands fall from the hilts of their swords.

“Stand down. The both of you.” Rhaegar says. Now the both of them slowly remove their hands from their swords and relax.

“To what do I owe this visit my prince?” Ser Bonifer says to Rhaegar.

“Well, Ser Bonifer. I’m here because we have something in common.” He wonders what this young man is talking about, what in the world would they have in common? Skill with a lance perhaps…or maybe…He wonders as he touches his chin in thought.

“We both love my mother.” Rhaegar says.

That’s what he meant. He glances over to Ser Arthur and the Sword of the Morning is staring him down. He gulps a bit at the fearsome knight. Ser Arthur could easily cut down ten good men, so they have nothing to fear from just him.

“Rhaella is…was…” He mutters.

“She is my mother, and you love her. Don’t fret, I understand your plight, more than most.” Rhaegar says.

Now he’s curious as to what the prince has to say.

“The darkness is coming for the dragons, Ser Bonifer. You will have a role to play. You need to know that this world does not need me, nor does it need you. My mother, however, she is needed. I will protect her as long as I’m alive, and there may come a time when I’m not there to protect her.” Rhaegar says, and then pauses to continue.

“There will come a time when my father,” Rhaegar says with a light snarl, “will send her to Dragonstone. When the darkness comes, and you will know when it has…you will take up a small boat and save her. Meet her at the cliffs and you will come in when she tries to fling herself from those cliffs. She will have sent everyone else away by then. Take her to Driftmark and there will be some Velaryons there that will help you.” Rhaegar says to him, eyeing him intently.

“How will I keep her identity a secret, my prince?”He asks the young man, then the young prince starts to grin.

“Don’t presume to understand dragons, Ser Bonifer. Help them when they need you, and hope that you do not get burned. The bells will ring for nearly a full day in Kings Landing, and she will return. Whether you did as asked or not will be judged on that day.” Rhaegar adds with Ser Arthur stepping towards him.

“Show me your blade.” Ser Arthur says.

“Is that really necessary?” Rhaegar asks Ser Arthur.

“Dawn must measure the man, and find his life a worthy one.” Ser Arthur replies.

He unsheathes his sword, definitively, as a true knight would. He and the Sword of the Morning measure each other, looking for openings. They glance, then stare, and finally he swings first, a mobile quick thrust, designed to measure his opponent’s speed. Ser Arthur steps aside quickly, with Ser Arthur’s blue eyes examining him, still lunging forward. In one quick thrust, Ser Arthur swings Dawn and sends his blade twirling in the air and shoulders his momentum down to the ground, and points the starlit blade at his throat.

“I find you lacking.” Ser Arthur says. “Are you sure about this, Rhaegar?”

“I am, you’ll find that skill with a blade does not always mean a man’s character, Art.” Rhaegar replies.

Rhaegar dismounts, and comes towards him. Upon reaching him, Rhaegar puts his hand on Ser Arthurs arm and the Dornish Knight retracts and sheathes his blade.

“I must find the Horn of Joramun, and it will be delivered to you when the darkness comes. I find that the North is a fascinating, albeit wild place. The horn will make my mother forget for a time. Her memories may be horrible, I believe, and yet they make her who she is. Before the Dawn can return, a dragon will visit you, just as I have done today. When they do, you had best have your affairs in order. In the meantime, find a way to hide my mother, become a septon, or a merchant, even a mummer will do, but protect her and it will go well for you. Farewell, Ser Bonifer…” The words linger as Rhaegar and Ser Arthur mount their horses and ride away.

Returning to the present, he decides to speak to the King so that he’s not killed.

“Your Grace…” He says, into Blackfyre’s reddish hue. “I was told by Prince Rhaegar to protect her, and I did all that I could…” He says further as the heat from the blade gets closer to his face. “All that you could? I have been in Kings Landing for some time now, and you have not brought her to us in any capacity, for that I could have your head, but I’m not the monarchs that came before me. You will face her yourself, and she will decide your fate once she has her memories back.”

“How can she recover her memory, Your Grace?” He asks the King.

“Haven’t you heard it said that the North remembers?” The King says to him with a slow-forming grin. Now the ruby-clad sword is away from his face and sheathed when the King allows him to get up.

Now the young King goes and climbs the tough green scales of the dragon. They take off to the skies and go back to the castle, but not before ordering Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, “Escort Ser Bonifer to the Godswood. Let my grandmother decide whether or not he deserves the life that he lives.”

Then the King flies away, with the dragon kicking up cold winds and threatening to freeze his balls off.

_Better than being burned…_

Together the lot of them proceed to the capital, through the cold ice and snow, heavy footsteps, crunching and sliding, fearful to see her again and be turned away. He had his time, but at least he’ll see her once more. Him, Ser Jaime, and Ser Barristan converse about her, and they voice their support, but that they are not the ones that will decide his fate. 

He walks through the capital, and the scenery surprises him, not dead men, nor the horrible freezing temperatures have dampened the spirits of the people looking at him as he walks by. It’s actually quite remarkable.

They finally arrive at the Godswood, now the number of dragon sigils on the armored men are many, and the soldiers eye him sternly, with three dragons in the skies flying around and circling the capital.

More immediately, there are three dragons with their eyes on him in the Godswood, but he only sees one of them.

Rhaella is in a royal red dress with black laces and a dragon sigil, a grey cape draped over her beautiful shoulder. She has on her crown, and her stare is burning through just like he was a young man again, trying to gain her favor, which he still wears every day.

She has her arms crossed, and her fingers are tapping with impatience. She eyes him and every emotion that he has ever known crosses her face. He kneels to her, head down in shame and the silence reigns over the already serene scenery. She still hasn’t said a word to him and his eyes are closed, so he lifts his head slightly and barely opens one eye to look at Rhaella.

Her face is unreadable. His mouth starts to move but no words come forth. Her eyes rove over him, scrutinizing and examining him, but her eyes find their way to the favor of hers that he still wears. Her face softens when she recognizes it.

“Ser Bonifer Hasty. You saved me, you loved me, and I loved you in kind. I had lost my memories, but you gave me nothing but kindness in return. You helped a broken person put themself back together, and you never did anything out of hand with me. For that, you get to live.” Rhaella says, staring him down. He has a sigh of relief and she finishes her thought.

He takes her hand, and they walk together for a short while in the Godswood, with a few guards behind them. She stops and turns to him.

“When darkness overtakes, must strive for any source of light you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella makes her presence known. Plans are drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I'm back(still not knowing what i'm doing). Two chapters are here, so this would be #1 of 2.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

Some one or some thing saw fit to give her mother back to her. Having a child is one thing, as there is always a bit of fear when bringing a child into the world. The thought of her mother being here to witness her grandchild is reassuring and odd at the same time. Looking at the strong will of her mother, and the smile that she gave her when she realized she has a living family eases her fears just a bit. Doesn’t stop her mind from racing though.

_Will this child turn out like me?_ She wonders, looking over her son and her eyes rove about over the strands of silver hair on the sleeping child’s head. Not in a long time, has she felt this much peace, even in the dead of winter. Walking together with her mother, guards in tow, they go together to the Godswood. The heart tree is as expressionless as ever, but the tranquility emanating from the tree denotes a sense of blankness, or perhaps emptiness.

She explains her life to her mother, each horrible detail, though some of them good, and Rhaella listens intently. She doesn’t interrupt her much, but her mother finally says to her, “I do see some of him in you, yes, he was your father after all. That is unavoidable. Take care that you don’t give in to your horrible thoughts and you’ll be fine, but pay close attention to your own self-awareness.” Her mother says thoughtfully. “You miscounted earlier, however,” her mother says with a curious gleam in her eyes, then Rhaella continues. “When you put those eggs in the flames and burned those bodies and emerged from the pyre, there were four dragons born that day.”

Normally it feels like the tree is watching, but this time it seems as though it can’t see her mother. Strange thing, but she’ll not question it.

_Am I more like her, than my father?_ Again she wonders.

“You are going to stare a hole in me with your eyes, Daenerys. Is there something you want to ask me?” Her mother asks, staring right back at her. She can vague see her mother’s scars creeping down her neck, and if not for being bundled in the blistering cold she’d ask to look upon them, but she looks to her mother’s eyes instead, hoping to find something there that may guide her.

“How did you…did you…love him, my father…Aerys…?” Daenerys asks her mother. That will probably help understand her husband a little better, as it’s difficult to understand sometimes as to why a person would deserve another’s unflinching love, but yet it is ever present in the King’s eyes.

A sliver of grief crosses her mother’s face, but she returns to the same look of happiness upon her eyes drifting towards the babe, sleeping and making little quick and short breaths.

“Love, let me tell you about love, my dear daughter. On the one hand you have concern for their well being, well in that sense, I love everyone. But there’s more to it than that. Do you share the same goals and ideals? Can you work together with a common purpose, even if disagreeable? Does the passion for this person at times burn harder than you can ever imagine? Will you compromise yourself to be with this person, if they asked it of you? Though I will say that never should a person ask it if they do claim to love you, but you should be willing to do so if it becomes necessary. I do think that you would do well to answer these questions.”

She stares at her mother wordlessly, with each of those questions wrenching deep into her soul, threatening to swallow her up and drown her, but she comes back to the present, deciding to engage her mother.

Rhaella continues, “does the love you feel make your loneliness dissipate, like darkness burned away by a gleaming sunlight? If not most of those things, then you may not call it true love sweet daughter. I did love Aerys, but not what he became. He was a good king for a time before madness came to claim him. But what could I do, could I turn away my king and husband, the father of my children? Could I kill him in his sleep, only to crown Rhaegar, and have the Kingsguard looking at me with suspicion if I did not die myself? I could only do what I could, from my prison of a home on Dragonstone, and the only thing that I could do is try to love my children. Even if it killed me.” The silent tears work their way down Rhaella’s face and her eyes sting a little as well. It makes a world of difference to have someone that understands you.

They embrace again, trying to restore every ounce of love that had ever been stolen from them.

She heard Rhaegal’s screeching above them in the Godswood but she assumed that The King would go to the Red Keep. The man that still haunts her thoughts just stands there observing them. _How much of that did he hear?_ She wonders.

“I love you.” The King says and melts her mind and body into a puddle. He always had the ability to do that, and it’s even worse since she has not had him since the Prince was born.

“And I love you.” She replies.

The King runs up and hugs her mother, his grandmother as well, sharing kind words with her and assuring her that she has a family.

Rhaella smiles, a real smile that seems to brighten the day. Her mother observes the two of them, looking back and forth between them, and finally speaking.

“So tell me your stories, I’ll hear it all from you two.”

They look to each other for comfort, before taking a deep breath and telling their stories to Rhaella, and she listens intently, albeit with many emotions flashing on her face.

After listening to them both tell their stories, Rhaella stands and lets the quiet tone of the Godswood set the mood while she contemplates all the time that she missed with them. It’s a tad bit heartbreaking, but they have the time now, they have a chance to be a family and Daenerys Targaryen will be damned if anyone will take that from her.

Finally, her mother replies. “You two…you ask much of me. I have to wear the face of Daenerys Targaryen’s mother, and I love her with all of my heart. Then I have to be the grandmother of Jaehaerys Targaryen, this young handsome man with the face of Rhaegar and doesn’t truly know who he is yet. I can do ask you ask, my children, but do not make me choose between the two, you must promise me this.”

Mother has a point. Daenerys and Jon look to each other with understanding. He nods quickly, and it makes her thoughts race, but she agrees as well.

“Good. I have questions.” Rhaella says with her arms folded, a serious look upon her face.

“First you, Daenerys. When he was Jon Snow, did you you consider him worth being your King?” Her mother asks.

“I…thought that the throne was mine alone, no. I thought that my struggle to gain power meant that I was to be the Queen and that everything else was simply an obstacle. I know now that I made a mistake, but at the time I craved the power and love and home, but I was not clear on what I wanted from Jon, or Jaehaerys.”

“It fascinates me that you two found each other from leagues away, but he was Ice and you were Fire, I wonder if that had much to do with your plight. You say that you loved him, but you were not willing to give up your throne for him. I think that is the issue. You are strong, daughter and I respect that. You just didn’t truly know what love was, or how to accept it…” Rhaella says wisely.

Daenerys nods and understands. She is so happy to have her mother in her life that she doesn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” is the only thing she can get out.

“Now Jaehaerys, I must ask you…” Her mother says turning to the King. They look into each other’s eyes.

“Do you know who you are?” Rhaella asks the King.

He glances over to the carriage, where little Rhaegar is silently watching, with Ghost keeping him company. Then he looks back to Daenerys and she flashes him a bright smile.

”I do, grandmother. I had to kill Jon Snow to some extent, and then I became Jaehaerys Targaryen. It was necessary for me to become who my mother named me. I’m a King.”

“The King, Your Grace.” She tells him with a smirk, he blushes a bit and smiles in return.

“The King then.”

Rhaella looks back and forth between the two of them, then she seems to resign herself and relaxes her shoulders.

“I’m glad that we could find each other. Can we all make sure that we can be a real family? I am tired of getting dark words on the scroll of a raven. I will not stand for it. I want to live, and love, and not have to look for the darkness behind your eyes to grow into a festering wound.” Rhaella says.

“Right you are.” Daenerys tells her.

“I have given it much thought, and I want you to consider this, my children. Something Rhaegar said to me long ago, when Aerys was in the darkness. Are you listening?” Rhaella asks, both her and the king look intently and nod.

“Find the thing that makes you alive, a rope of sorts, that can pull you from a bad place and into a good one. If that rope unravels, then it becomes a noose, that will suffocate the very life of you and turn you into something you don’t recognize.” Rhaella says, walking up closely to them, looking into their faces.

“I recognize you, and you’re beautiful. Make sure that you stay that way, and that means being aware of what is happening to you.” Says her mother, with a sadness that makes her heart stop, but then the brightest smile that she had seen on Rhaella’s face creates a cheerful new atmosphere in the Godswood. Daenerys missed this almost all her life. She now ponders on how she can get this through to little Rhaegar, that he will be loved and cherished, as everyone should be. It’s a reassuring, but also heavy thought.

Guards come to the Godswood now, interrupting their moment. Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan are the first to come towards them. Rhaella now recognizes them.

“You two look like you have been through all the seven hells. I’m glad you still live.” Rhaella says to them.

They bow deeply to the Queen Mother.

“It’s our honor to see you alive and well, you are the best monarch that we’d ever served.” Ser Jaime says. He looks over to the Queen and King when realization washes over his face.

“No offense, Your Graces.”

“None taken.” The King says. Daenerys just smiles to them.

Ser Jamie and Ser Barristan part ways, revealing Ser Bonifer, the man that had kept her alive, but also secret. Ser Bonifer comes forth now, and Rhaella starts staring at the man.

So this is the man that loved, and tried his best to love her mother. She can’t say she blames him, but a lowborn man trying to love a queen. It’s almost like when she met Jon Snow.

He looks at her with a knowing look. Their thoughts have been very well in sync since the babe was born. It’s all she ever wanted. 

Ser Bonifer kneels to her and her mother starts speaking to him, pledging her forgiveness, and deciding to let her live. Ser Barristan comes forth as if he has information.

“Your Graces, the riders from each of the Kingdoms have arrived finally, it’s about time that we know what’s going on in Westeros, without ravens being able to fly.”

Oberyn Martell

The chambers of the small council were as full as they have ever been. The Lords of the Seven Kingdoms came to Kings Landing to decide how they will survive this winter, with the dead swarming and no ravens able to fly. Oberyn is now one of the most powerful people in Westeros, as he has the information that no one else can seem to get. Daily riders arrive to update him as to the status of each kingdom, and he seems to have all the knowledge that anyone can get. Other than this odd little Stark boy that looks on like he can see through them all.

From what he’s heard, the boy really can.

He sits up straight, looking for traces of lies as the Lords tell their fearful tales. In attendance are himself, Edmure Tully, Yara Greyjoy, Robin Arryn, Robb Stark, Bran Stark, The Queen and King, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister, Samwell Tarly, Gendry Baratheon, Mance Rayder, Olenna Tyrell, Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Davos Seaworth, Ser Brienne of Tarth, and Kevan Lannister.

“How fares the Seven Kingdoms?” The Queen asks, leaning her hands on the table and looking as beautiful as ever. She still eyes the King with love and respect, and they seem closer than they’ve ever been.

“Cold, Your Grace. Hungry too.” Edmure Tully replies, standing up.

Yara scoffs sitting down in a bundle of furs, with pale patches of skin on her face slowly regaining their color, “Go to the Citadel then, you’ll see real cold, Lord Tully.”

Robb smiles at his uncle, “You want to see Winterfell or the Wall uncle Edmure? I don’t think you have much room to complain about the cold.” The King stares at Edmure, but doesn’t reply at all. Edmure looks around the room and then sits down.

“You don’t know cold, My Lord. We used to have to sleep huddled up man to man, just to stay alive, and sometimes in dead animals, and furs piled high just to get a wink of sleep. All the while we had to watch our backs, and you were calling my people savages.” Mance replies. Edmure looks like he saw a ghost before him and is burdened by fear.

“Relax, don’t scare poor Lord Tully, he’s not used to the cold. He’ll be all the more glad when he can get back to Riverrun with a nice hearth.” The King says. He was led to believe that Edmure was on the King’s bad side, but they appear to have passed that. Edmure is just a clumsy lad, but he’s a dutiful Lord, so his reports say. _Riverrun is not on my list of vacation visits, however._

“The dead send scouts periodically, and then we put them down, I think they are testing our defenses. When we get close to the Citadel, it gets impossible to see, and no scouts that we sent have returned.” Kevan Lannister says to the council, with a look of terror written on his pale face. _I wonder how much blood would show if I shoved my spear through that crimson cloak_ , he wonders, also thinking on whether the King and Queen would object.

“Send an army then.” Olenna says. Kevan just stares at her. “I don’t know the enemies numbers, My Lady, I’d be a fool to rush in with an enemy that we do not know.”

“Didn’t stop you from invading the capital on Tywin’s orders.” Oberyn says. Kevan opens and closes his mouth, and then stays silent when the King and Queen look for his reply. Kevan finally puts his head down and lets the others continue.

The King stands up and looks to Robb. “Robb, what do you think we should do about the Citadel? I want to hear your battle plans.” Robb looks at the map and moves the pieces towards the Citadel, surrounding it.

“The armies converge on Oldtown, and clear the dead out. We save any survivors that linger, but we do not send them all at one time. Clear out the Citadel in waves, and if anything is left of it, we rebuild it.” Robb says. Bran shakes his head, but Yara speaks up first.

“There is nothing or no one left. The dead have cleared it all out. The buildings are destroyed and the only thing still standing are the dead that have been raised up.” Oberyn notices that some of her veins are a dark blue shade, and she’s nearly burning herself with the heat of the torch near her face, and constantly drinking hot soup. Since the heat got close to the girl’s face, the veins have gotten slight lighter, in shade, but they still look terrible.

“She speaks true, and even then, the Night King has his forces spread out, while you do that, the waves will be ambushed and more people will turn. Each wave will suffer losses and that will add to the dead’s numbers.” Bran says, much to the horror of those present.

“The Night King is smarter than you would think, the war plans go out the window when it comes to him, damn it all.” Ser Jorah says.

“We’ll have to burn the Citadel, completely won’t we? I had dreams of giving that place to the flames, when the Maesters thought themselves better than everyone, but I suppose they don’t think that anymore, do they.” Olenna asks. A melancholic silence flows through the room, and then Bran answers, “We will. In the clearing, we’ll form a new one, one that’s not so…haughty.”

“Will that even work?” Oberyn asks. The King and Queen just look at each other and shrug.

“There’s wildfire all over the Citadel too, Qyburn saw to that. He was a madman, but he did that much, I don’t know how unstable it is, or how to bring a flame down with out the dragons.” Bran says.

That complicates things.

“We will march on the citadel then? Pitch and oil burning bright and when the time comes we shall launch burning pitch and try to burn it , and if that fails…” Robb says, and pauses.

“The dragons.” Robb continues.

“And then we’ll have a Mad King and Queen, the people will turn on you when they hear you burned the Citadel, I suspect.” Olenna says.

The Queen looks slightly ashamed, but the King kisses her cheek and she smiles, albeit sadly.

“Let us deal with that after we kill the dead men. Hopefully it won’t come to that. Lady Olenna don’t you have some knowledge of the Citadel and it’s workings, you’ve lived three hundred and seventy two name days have you not? You may have all the knowledge of the Maester in those thorns of yours.” Oberyn says, sitting back and smiling at himself.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, but didn’t they make Oldtown just to fit your thousands of children there? I suspect you’d know better than me, Master of Whispers. Funny how I never heard anyone whisper when they’re in your company.” Olenna retorts with a hellish grin.

Their banter seems to lift the spirits of the council, if only a bit. No easy way to talk of burning a city, and then the Queen Mother comes into the chamber shocking them all, save for the Queen and King, Ser Barristan, and Jaime.

Rhaella Targaryen stares them over one by one, and each of them shy away from her, not sure what to say to the woman that lived with Aerys for so long. It’s said that her eyes were closed to him, but they look open as ever now, gazing at them with an array of emotions.

Ser Barristan is next to add in his thoughts, “The cold makes it difficult to catch flame, does it not. We need to find a way to light the fires with out bringing the dragons too close, do we not?”

Rhaella looks around and gauges their expressions again, having lots of time in the capital and knowing how to spot dubious Lords and Ladies. It feels much like Drogon staring at them. She looks beautiful in her red and black dress, with scarves covering the scars that she is rumored to have. She leans in on the table and likes what she sees from the markers of the invasion of Oldtown. It dawns on him that this is the first time she’s been in the capital as anything but a hostage to the Mad King. She had to hear tale of nearly all of her family dying, and the only thing that she had was her children, she couldn’t be in a more strange situation if they made it to Sothoryos.

“The Bloodraven hid you from me, I couldn’t see you when I gazed out with a thousand eyes. He closed mine to you. I wonder how he did that.” Bran Stark says emotionlessly.

“There is something that you don’t know. I never thought I’d see the day.” Robb replies with a shrug. Bran just smiles, but it looks odd on stern face, so it just looked like a mouth twitching.

“It was the Horn of Joramun, Rhaegar had sent people to find it beyond the Wall, and had it sent to me. He knew more than he told me, it seems. He had told me of the Long Night, but I thought he was just trying to scare me, when…he told me his plans…for…Lyanna…” He says looking to the King. “I wish to speak to the council, Your Graces, what do you say to that?” Rhaella asks.

They nod to her. Giving her a smile, a welcoming one at that.

“My daughter and grandson will find themselves safely back at Kings Landing, and you will make sure of it, yes?” All of them nod to her. Rhaella seems to ponder for a moment, and then she speaks again. “Let me put this another way, if they don’t make it back safely, then neither will you. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do not see the light of day again, am I understood in this?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” They all say. Here, in what he used to call the stinking city all this time surrounded by Dragons, roses, bears, lions, wolves, vipers, and all sorts of danger, Oberyn thought he’d never feel fear again. But this woman, Rhaella Targaryen, smiling sweetly at them and threatening all their lives without wavering in her expression brings back all the fear he ever thought he could muster up, just a bit. He’ll have to tell Ellaria about this feisty woman, as his excitement rises at the thought.

“You two,” She says to the King and Queen. “Have you had a moment since Rhaegar was born?”

They look at each other and shake their heads. “Go and have a moment to yourselves. You will lose a part of yourself when you have to do this thing, this burning at the Citadel, I know it all too well. Prepare yourselves for this thing that you must do.”

Both monarchs look at each other and back at the council. It’s said that Daenerys hasn’t let the child from her sight since he was born, and she looks at the babe too. Then both the King and Queen kiss little Rhaegar, and Rhaella takes the babe from his mother. Together, they walk hand in hand and leave the council chamber, exhausted, happy, and also embarrassed.

“Only a dragon could tame a dragon, it seems.” Oberyn japes.

“Two dragons.” Ser Barristan replies.

Rhaella taps her fingers on the table and Bran Stark is looking at her like he just saw her for the first time. _Interesting,_ Oberyn thinks to himself.

“Now, let’s talk about rebuilding Summerhall when this is over, and another more important thing. I need to know if you can make a second Iron Throne. I think they deserve it, don’t you?”

None of the council, not even the Queen of Thorns, has the inkling to say no to Rhaella.

_Just when I thought this couldn’t be more interesting…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks if you still read. I appreciate it.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King gets prepared for the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this finished already, for some reason my finger didn't want to post it. I don't know why, but here it is. #2 of 2, as an apology for taking so long.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms

It’s time to marshal the forces against the dead, but the warmth of this dragon beside him keeps him subdued and not wanting to leave. Been a while since Rhaegar was gone, and not only that, it makes the reality of having to burn the Citadel real. It’d make Bran the only knowledge base in the world, and yet the chances of avoiding that are slim to none.

A happy nervousness, that’s what he’d call it. He look back to the Queen and she has her violet gaze fixed on him, laying on his chest with one of her breasts pressed into him, soft and yet larger than he remembered. It’s enough to excite him all over again. She runs her hands on his chest where his scars were, realizing that there must be something on her mind.

“Do you still feel those scars?” She asks him. His head rises and he looks up at the ceiling, darkened red stone with little creases that remind him of the sign with the single word ‘traitor.’

He looks back at her and nods. She lifts cup her head from his chest, still running her hand over he spots where he was stabbed, and she then starts kissing them. Now his heart is racing and he rolls her over to where he can kiss her phantom scar as well, her left breast. The guilt subsides when she smiles at him in recognition, and plunges himself into her with a slow, but steady thrust, opening her legs, which she does eagerly. _If only sex solved all our problems…_

The thought leaves him as she grabs his chest and squeezes, starting to caress him and making him go crazy even further as he can smell her scent, mixed with sweat and lavender, lust and love, queenly appeal and sexy confidence. “Are you going to…conquer…your territory…?” She says with each thrust into her and she starts clawing him like a mad woman when he starts speeding up and making her flush with excitement. She starts shaking after a while, first her legs and then the bends her back like she was being branded by heat. “Give me, all of it.” She says while she urges him to continue and pulls him deeper, and then he can’t last any longer. He spills his seed as if his life’s blood was leaving him.

At some point later, after some time passes, he remembers how to breathe. She laughs at him when he pretends to be sleeping, peeking out his eye at her. “Did you see her scars?” Daenerys asks him. He’d soon like to forget them, but he did as the anger flashes his face, and he nods to her while a dark mood seems to cross her face as well. “There is nothing we can do but show her a better way, so let’s make sure we do that. It irks me that Viserys never told me how monstrous that we can be when driven to our wits end.” She says solemnly, “I often wonder what happens when you back a monster into a corner and they slaughter you. Is that what makes a monster? The need to slaughter, or maybe it’s the reasoning that you don’t have a choice when it comes time to solve a problem.”

He twirls her hair in his hands, trying to smile and reassure her, but he doesn’t know himself. “If that’s true then I’m a monster, and so is everyone I’ve ever met. What I do know is that we need to put an end to the chance of an endless winter. It seems to bring the worse out of everyone. I’d sooner see it end, and get back to being your husband, Dany. I want nothing but to see Rhaegar grown into a fine man and King. We will make sure that happens won’t we?” She swallows a dark look and the light returns to her eyes after a moment of uncertainty.

Nodding to him, and suddenly forming a sly smile, she makes him burn all over again, with desire. She faces him again and her violet eyes look like a starry sky at sunset, getting lost in them all over again like he was still a green boy with a maiden. The Queen removes the thin sheet over her and shows him her nakedness, guiding his hand to her slick parts and not so subtly inviting him to her entry. “You want nothing but what again?” Daenerys asks with a smirk and a glowing face, flush and blushing with love.

He has no defense for it. “Damn you woman,” he says. Submitting himself to her, he gets lost in her all over again.

They talk alone for some time about their plans, and how to proceed with raising little Rhaegar to be a good King, and finally a door knock summons them to duty once more. They probably have no more time before Robb is ready to march. They dress each other, as is their tradition, and they fondle each other as they work on their boots, breeches and tunics of black and red, with small patches of grey worked in, to represent his Stark bloodline. _What would Lord Eddard think of me if he could see me now?I am not Jon Snow any longer, but Jahaerys Targaryen, the name that you denied me. Though you did save me, you still killed a part of me,_ he reasons, in the very place that Ned Stark died, no less _._ He tells himself that he doesn’t care, but yet the childish part of one’s mind always will seek approval.

Dany and himself finally finish getting dressed, down the the drape of the red cape, and still enjoying the look of three-headed red dragon on their breastplate. _True dragons indeed_ , he thinks, as he enjoys the sight of her. They go out of the chambers to find Ser Barristan waiting for them, along with Ser Brienne and Robb. All of them nod in reverence, saying ‘Your Grace’ to each of them as they glare at the two of them. Robb looks like he has something to say, more than the others, so he walks over to his brother. Robb looks more like a man grown that he’d ever seen his brother, an auburn beard and longer hair that he had seen on him before. “Lord Stark,” he says and claps Robb on the back, while his brother blanches. “We need to march soon, Your Grace. The men are afraid of the dead men.”

“As they should be.” He replies. Robb nods and continues.

“Jon, it’s bad out there. I used to laugh when Old Nan called us summer children, but I see the truth of it now. You didn’t give up, at the Wall with not even a tenth of the men we have now, you must have balls of gilded steel, brother.”

“There’s no losing in this battle, Robb, you lose and that’s the end of everything. No summers or glass gardens, roses, or campfires. But we have them pushed in a corner. The bad thing is that the dead become all the more dangerous then. Enough of this, how fares our little Wolf of the South?”

Robb blushes, and give him a wolfish grin. “He’s a little like him. Quiet and yet you can see the direwolf in his eyes. He reminds me of you, truly, Jon. Not only that, but Talisa has never been more…well friendly.”

“I know that you mean.” He says laughing. His legs still feel weak from him and Dany’s time together, making up for the time when the babe was born. Not only that, but he’s certain that someone heard them. That’s neither here nor there, however.

“Do you mean to stay here in Kings Landing when we are done with the dead, Robb? I’m going to leave it to you, I’ll wait for your answer before I tell you what I think.” He says as Robb ponders, rubbing his coarse hairs on his chin in heavy thought. “I think, that I shall remain here. I shall go north when they need me, but I don’t need to hear the squabbles and the calls for independence, all the while not having the resources to support a whole Kingdom, let alone one as big as the North. I don’t much feel like the Young Wolf when we do not have battles to fight.”

“Jon, I’m sorry for how it was it between us. My world was as small the distance from the Wall to the Neck, and now it’s as big as my son and his mother. Even Grey Wind has calmed down around others, and he sometimes snapped at my Lords, unprovoked. I want a semblance of peace, and I’ll not find it there.”

“Poor Rickon,” He says with a chuckle. “Shaggy is going to be biting the arses of those fools from time to time. I can see it now, the ravens, ‘Robb, shaggy ripped out Lord Glover’s throat, what what’s the best way to clean up blood from the stone in the Great Hall? Robb, Shaggy thought Lord Manderly tasted like roasted trout, when he asked for a loan to expand the fishing boats in White Harbor.’

“My mother will help him. I do not care to see her.” His brother admits. “Sansa either.”

“Bran will help him too. He can speak through the Weirwoods, you know.”

“All too well, he saved my sorry arse a few times in battle. I don’t know whether he wants to kill me sometimes or just watch me die. He’s so odd now, but I think he has his head in the right place.”

“Knowledge is a burden, Robb, we can’t imagine what it’s like to have all the knowledge of the world. Half the stories and books could be lies, and he knows all the people that died for nothing. It’s horrible thing, but that reminds me.” He leaves, but Robb follows.

He goes to find Ser Brienne, running a whetstone over her sword, conversing with Ser Jaime. “Your Grace,” She says, still polishing her sword, and Jaime is having a squire do the same with his.

“Lord Commander,” he says. “I need a guard assigned to Bran. A full seven, that is. He needs to be protected at all times. He’s the knowledge of the world now, Lord Commander. The dead want him most of all, and he carries nary a weapon.” She looks perturbed, but then she stands up sheathes her sword. Her dragon sigil-clad armor clanks as she heads away, with Ser Jaime lagging behind her, both their white cloaks bright and unstained.

“Good thinking Jon, if the dead get in the castle, it’ll be as bad as Greyscale or the Pale Mare I read about.” Robb says. “We need to get the troops sent off, Your Grace.”

“Let’s do it then.” He gets a pit in his stomach as Robb proceeds to head to the Dragon Gate. “I’m going to get the Queen as well, she should be here for this.” He heads to throne room to find her. Robb goes his separate, but after they hug and part. He sees Ser Barristan first, placing his hand on the older knights shoulder, looking to him for any hint of news that he might need. “We need someone to bring flame to the Citadel, Ser Barristan, I don’t know if I can ask a man to ride to Oldtown and die for us, when we have the dragons.”

Ser Barristan kneels, “I would be honored to, Your Grace.”

“I appreciate it Ser Barristan, but someone has to teach my son the good and bad of House Targaryen, and the brave knight that slew Maelys the Monstrous.” He says and Ser Barristan finally looks up. He motions to him to rise. “Go find me someone, Ser Barristan, and come back with a knight ready to defend the realm, in case we cannot light the flames in Oldtown.” The older man nods and trots off, after showing him to the throne room, the guards opening the double doors and filing in to lines behind him.

They walk into the throne room together, to find his grandmother seated on the Throne, holding little Rhaegar, and speaking to the little babe, “never burn anyone that doesn’t deserve it.” She says to his son. “My father, Jaehaerys used to tell me that you are a man when you put the needs of others before your own, be glad that you have a good man for a father, my boy.” She kisses his forehead, while the babe wiggles his arms and fingers. “I didn’t hate this chair at first, when my father sat on it. But Aerys turned into a gruesome thing. It cut him, because he did not deserve it, Rhaegar. I’m going to help you deserve it, as best I can.” She says snuggling up to the baby dragon and he grabs her hair when she pulls him close. The last time he saw someone that happy, was when Arya saw Nymeria for the first time.

Ser Bonifer is standing next to her, as Ghost inspects him and he’s afraid of the direwolf. “How is this wolf so large?” Ser Bonifer asks as Ghost’s tail wags and he sniffs the older Knight with awe. Ghost’s big snout presses into the Holy Knight backing him into the wall uncomfortably.Bonifer the good, leader of the Holy Hundred, or so is his reputation, Oberyn tells him he only did so to protect his grandmother, which he can’t say isn’t a good thing. If Ghost likes him, then he just may be alright.

Dany comes forth with Lady Talisa, and they both sip a goblet of mulled wine like it was their first. The two of them seem to be looking at him and sharing stories. No doubt they are enjoying the time from the children, it’s the time like that parents live for at times.

“He’s protecting my little one here, so you should be glad he likes the smell of you. You’d never know he was coming if he wanted you dead.” He says as they look towards him. “Ghost, he’s okay. Stop scaring the man, will you?” Ghost looks back to him, and then gives Bonifer a defiant sniff before going to lay next to the throne.

“Dany,” he says as she looks to him immediately, “it’s time to see the men off to march.” She puts down her goblet and takes his hand in hers, walking together, and Dany looks back to Rhaegar and Rhaella, the woman smiling bright and beautiful, then says to her. “Go ahead…I’ll take care of Rhager…Dany…”and the guards form two lines behind them.

The men are lined up, with a sea of endless banners, the dragon most prominent, but many are there, from Fossway to Florent, the major houses Baratheon, Lannister, Stark, Tyrell, Tarly, Martell, and even small houses like Darry, Yronwood, and Blackwood. To think that this is all his, well, their domain, and these houses might war upon each other if not for having a good King and Queen.

Together they arrive at the Dragon Gate, Rhaegal and Drogon are above them, with Viserion still at the Red Keep, he hasn’t been far from Rhaegar since he was born. Looks like the little one is a dragon already, before he can even form words.

The men clamor and chatter until Ser Barristan taps his sword on the Walls of the ramparts, overlooking the snowy fields housing the armies. Fires are blazing and tents show the extent of the power of Westeros, a large enough army to do anything they wish.

“Thank you for being here, a King and Queen are nothing without a Kingdom, and that is what you are. You are the dawn today, and as soon as the dead are vanquished, we aim to bring a new area of prosperity, not seen since the age of Valyria, and you will help us get there. We admire your courage and resolve, and we shall be in the skies to protect you when the battle comes. It’s an unfortunate thing that we must do, but there are no living things in the Citadel, any longer. We must burn it, and we must live.” Daenerys says to the armies, as they cheer and clang their weapons to their shields.

“We march for life and to put an end to this miserable cold. The flames that will extinguish the dead are ours, and we shall be the end of the dead men walking.” He pauses, and then looks to Ser Barristan, that nods back to him in answer to his unspoken question.

“Among you is a man that has volunteered to light the flame that will burn the Citadel, If the dragons are unable to bring flame to Oldtown, I ask that this man step forward, the hero among heroes. Our true Champion, Life’s Champion.”

Thoros of Myr steps forward, running his hand on his dark sword, lighting a flame on the sword and raising it to the skies. He takes a swig of rum and then kneels to the King and Queen, with Beric behind him, looking disappointed.

“Arise, Thoros of Myr, Champion of Life, the Flame of Justice.” Dany says to the men. They clamor and shout as the balding man stands and looks up to the King and Queen.

“Look to Thoros of Myr, soldiers, this is the fire, that when lit shall be the end of the malice concealed by the dark winter.”

The soldiers begin their march, and Dany whispers to him, “You’re quite good at riling people up aren’t you? Didn’t you used to be some solemn boy with no ambition?”

He grabs her and kisses her. “That boy was burned by a dragon, and was afraid until he found that the flame was a comfort, and not a burden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, thank you, and I see you. Have a good day.


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